Vampires Are Bitey, And I Stole A Car
by Obstreperous Wookie
Summary: [Riley Adventure 5] Riley finally has a way to save Finn. All she has to do is free a couple of girls from a nest of vampires. But not all is as it seems, and trouble seems to be coming from all sides.
1. Hello, Montana

A/N: Another Riley adventure! If you haven't read any of the others, I at least recommend reading **_The Boys Are Back_**. It will make this one less confusing. Anyways, please review! I love reviews! Thanks for reading. :)

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><p>I was still reeling a little bit over running into Finn's mom—who did <em>not<em> look old enough at all to have a twenty-two year old son. But the resemblance spoke for itself. It almost hurt to look at her, because all I could see if Finn's face. I stared hard at the picture of the girl who had drowned. Haunted, would be the word I'd use to describe the look on her face. Haunted and uncomprehending—kind of how I felt right now, actually.

"I had a friend track your license plate down. In case you were wondering how I found out who you are," she said mildly. I had been wondering, but not enough to ask.

"What do you need from me?" I countered, tired of feeling like I was just drifting helplessly. If she really knew a way to wake Finn up, then I wanted to stop messing around and just get to it.

She grinned. "A girl who speaks her mind. No wonder he likes you." I had to fight the urge to slap that stupid grin off her face. But no, we were in an art gallery, and public displays of violence were not appreciated amongst the art community.

Then her grin faded into something much darker, and she started filling me in. "I made a deal—not a crossroads deal—but a deal nonetheless." I didn't know what a crossroads deal was, but after tonight I would definitely be looking it up. She continued, "The only problem is that I can't be two places at once. And, since the deal hinges on me being present to wake Finn up, I need you to fill in with the other job. It's time sensitive, and it should be right up your alley."

And here I was thinking I didn't even have an alley. Finn's mom pinned me in place with her stormy gray eyes, forcing me to focus as she laid out the job. "There's a nest of vampires in Helena, Montana. They're maybe nine or ten strong. But more importantly, they have someone I want. At any given time, they have a couple of girls as feeders. I've been watching the nest for almost two weeks. The only time to get in and get out with the girls is when a majority of the nest goes out to bigger cities in search of new feeders."

Her eyes flicked up and down over me. "There's a lot of killing in this one. If you can't handle it, let me know right now, and I will find someone else."

Oh, I would handle it. For Finn, I would definitely handle it. I met her gaze squarely, not letting her intimidate me. She smiled, but it was more like a cat-ate-the-canary smile. It was unnerving, but I refused to show any discomfort.

Finn's mom reached into her purse, handing me a manila envelope. "All the details are in here," she said. "Get your own transportation to Montana."

Then she turned and started walking away. I was lost. I was so, so lost, and my only source of answers was walking out the door. I was just about to call out to her when she turned around and walked back. She stopped, leaving barely a foot of space between us. "You'll get one shot at this. The girls will die if you don't get them out before the vampires bring back new, replacement feeders. And if you screw this up, I will hunt you down, and I will kill you. Painfully. Do you understand?" And there she was again with that sickly-sweet smile.

I leaned forward, narrowing the gap between us into wildly uncomfortable proportions. "Do your job," I warned her, my voice full of an icy calm that I didn't feel. "And I'll do mine."

If my mettle surprised her, she didn't show it. Instead, she walked out, this time for good. I waited until she was gone to find a chair to sit down in. Never mind that it was a carved piece of art. I just wanted to sit. Besides, the gallery was mostly empty. And really, who the heck chooses to make a chair to represent a human emotion? How did that even work?

I twisted in my seat, trying to find the plaque for the piece. It was labeled, "Shock and Awe." Oh. Yeah, I felt kind of shock-and-awed. If I remembered correctly, it was considered a military tactic. I definitely felt military tactic-ed by Finn's mom. That wasn't even really a word, but it should have been, because it fit her to a T.

After waiting through the remainder of the show, I took the envelope back to the hotel in somewhat of a daze. After months of a solid routine, everything was about to change. And if I finished this job, then Finn would be awake.

Hope.

Gosh, it was a good feeling.

Once in my room, I peeled off the dress, swept my hair into a ponytail, and pulled on some sweats and a soft t-shirt. Then I hopped onto the bed, sitting criss-cross style as I popped the seal on the big envelope. Inside were papers and pictures. I pulled them free and spread the whole mess around me in an arc. Then I moved my attention from one thing to another with disgusting slowness.

At the end of the arc, I had a pretty good idea of what it all meant. Separating all the pictures from the rest of the documents, I moved them to the left, by my knee. There were about a dozen different photos, but they were all of the same group of people. From what I could see, there were nine different guys collectively. That would be the nest. Nine vampires. Wow. I'd never even killed one vampire, let alone nine.

But as I further reviewed the documents, a plan began to form in my mind. I didn't have to kill them, at least not all at once. I couldn't, in good conscience, continue to let them kidnap and kill girls. Still, I wasn't an idiot. There was no way I was going to walk in there and kill them all by myself.

As promised by Finn's mom, I found the address to the warehouse, and the roughly plotted schedule of the vampires. The itinerary was excruciatingly blunt and basically gave me three days to get to Montana before the girls would be drained and replaced with new feeders.

I threw all the stuff back in the envelope and put my duffel bag on top of the bed. When I had packed it in Michigan, I had only included the bare Hunting essentials. Thankfully, one such item was my machete. It had a long straight blade with a tip that curved upwards into a wicked point, and along the top edge was twelve inches of small serrated saw edge. Sam and Dean Winchester used something similar against the vampires that had been hunting me, which had been one of my main reasons for purchasing it only a few weeks after the whole ordeal had gone down. Why I had packed it made little to no sense, but I had, and now I was entirely grateful.

I hefted the machete in one hand and my Glock in the other. Oh, the toys a girl could play with. Then I put both items down, realizing that normal people don't usually stand there smiling fondly at the deadly weapons clutched in their hands. Yeah, that was a little weird, even for me.

It was easy to pack my bag. I hadn't really unpacked in the first place. After it was done, I booked myself a last minute plane ticket, and left the hotel, slightly remiss that I hadn't even spent the night. Dang it. I had so been looking forward to staying in an actual hotel. And as soon as I reached Montana, I knew I would be back to motels. Lame sauce.

But Finn was worth it. Finn was definitely worth it.

When the cold Montana air bit at my face and whipped through my thin clothes, I scowled—reciting that I was doing this for Finn and he was still worth—and headed back into the airport in search of a bathroom where I could to change back into my Michigan apparel.

The second time I emerged, the cold nipped at me, but I was ready this time. It was a little weird, because the unease and shock of the meeting with Finn's mom had morphed into something equally as cold inside my chest. I called it my "Hunting mode," in that I always became very detached and cold when I was about to kill something. Maybe it was a coping mechanism, or maybe it was just a thing that happened. Either way, the last time I'd felt like this, I'd gone after a serial killer wielding a ghost.

As I waited for a cab, a little giggle erupted over that last thought, and I wondered when things had changed so completely that insane thoughts like that didn't even faze me anymore. Yowza.

The cab pulled up, and I put on my best "Not a crazy psychopath on my way to kill things" face as I opened the door and climbed in. It must have worked, because the cab driver asked me where I wanted to go without whipping out his cellphone and calling the cops. I tipped him extra for it when he dropped me off at a bar. He didn't even give me a weird look as I scrambled out, pulling my luggage behind me.

Finn had taught me a trick during one of our long motel hangout hours. To steal a car, he'd said, you have a couple of options. A bar was usually a good one, because bars don't always have security cameras in the parking lot, and some patrons don't keep their doors locked in case of mild intoxicated fumbling keeping them out of their car at the end of the night. Plus, they don't always report the cars stolen right away.

I scoped the place out for a while from my street corner, trying very hard not to look like a teenage prostitute checking out a potential customer base. My heavy duty attire may have helped with that. Either way, I picked out four cars that could be good targets. It was three in the morning, and if the cars were still here, then I could only assume their owners were inside, probably pretty wasted.

Only after I had ascertained a certain lack of security cameras both in the parking lot and at the business across the street, did I go about testing my chosen rides. Of the four, two were locked. I was left to choose between an old, navy blue Toyota Camry and a newer, silver Chevy Camaro. Why anyone would leave their stinking fancy Camaro unlocked was beyond me, unless they were young and dumb and spent their nights getting wasted.

But as much as I wanted to drive a Camaro, I felt like the Camry would be missed less and would therefore be potentially a bit more inconspicuous. I slid into the front seat of the Camry, leaving my duffel outside in the event that I had to abort the mission. Then I pulled out a key, so that I could intoxicatedly claim I thought this was my car if the need arose.

Leaning forward, I quickly flipped the visor down to check for keys. Then I checked under the floor mat. Nothing. Inside console, glovebox, passenger visor—all keyless. Hopping out again, I bent by the wheelwell, checking there. Nope. I stood up again, hesitating. Then I saw the small gas flap, and it had smudged fingerprints against the overall dusty haze of the car. Pulling it open, I was greeted by a silver key on a small ring.

_Well, hello there,_ I thought happily, grabbing it and turning around to toss my duffel onto the passenger seat. I climbed in again, turned the car on, and left the parking lot in the first stolen car of my life.

I still had a day and a half before having to storm the vampire nest, so I found a motel. It was seedy, and I was a little disappointed that I could have been in a nice hotel in Oregon right now instead of hiding my stolen car in an alley and walking to what looked like a place to buy drugs or lose marital fidelity. Whatever. Life was funny like that. All the could have been-s and should have been-s wouldn't help me now.

I checked in under the name of Zoe Washburne. After taking a quick shower, scarfing down a bag of airplane peanuts, and setting my my alarm, I flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. _Now would be a good time to shut up and sleep_, I told my brain. But it had other ideas. Finally, I rolled onto my side and called Trixie. She was asleep, but wasn't mad when I asked about Finn.

"No change," she said softly. "I'm sorry." I hung up, not sure why her words hurt so much. I _knew_ Finn's mom was going to wake him up. I knew it in the same way I'd known to bring my machete here—raw, primal gut feelings.

I put my phone back on the nightstand and rolled back onto my back, my brain spinning through the dozens of preparations that needed to get done before the job really started. There was something off about this one. Why had Finn's mom chosen me? There had to be tons of other Hunters she knew—older, more experienced, better qualified Hunters. Yet she had singled me out, tracked me down, and offered the job to me in a way I couldn't resist. It was puzzling, but it also reminded me, I needed to look up what a crossroads deal was.

I sat up, knowing that while my brain was still going one hundred miles per hour, there was no way I'd ever fall asleep. I might as well make use of my mental acuity and get some work done.

Booting up my laptop, I sat down in front of it and researched crossroads deals. I didn't find much, but the one thing that came up repeatedly was the theme of demons. I shuddered, hesitantly wondering if demons were yet another supernatural species that actually existed. I didn't want to think about it for long, so I busied myself with putting together a shopping list.

"Baking soda," I announced out loud, as if that would help me block out demons from my thoughts. "Baking soda would be good." I added it to the list with neat, precise letters and kept brainstorming.

After that was done, I distracted myself by finding directions to the warehouse and trawling through the local news for any recent deaths or missing persons. "Jonathan Moore, you poor illegitimate child, you," I said affectionately. Then I looked up directions to the morgue. With nothing else to do, I dropped back onto the bed and turned on the TV.

Eventually, somewhere between my second and third hour of terrible infomercials, I set my alarm for a different time and dropped off to sleep. I didn't dream, didn't toss and turn. I just closed my eyes one moment and clawed them open the next when my alarm started its cheery jingle.

I shambled around the room, trying to get dressed and find my shoes through the still-lingering morning haze of sleep. I found one teal Converse, pulling it on while hopping on my other foot towards the bed. When I reached it, I bent down and found the other, shoved just under the edge of the bed. I grunted in annoyance and pulled that one on as well. Then I remembered my hair.

Fishing my hairbrush from my bag, I ran it through the long blond strands until I looked at least partially presentable. With one last glance at the bathroom mirror, I grabbed my purse and headed out into the parking lot, pulling up short as I remembered that I was currently carless until I really needed the stolen Camry. Scowling my displeasure, I went in search of the closest coffee shop before attempting to take the evening on. If the baristas thought it odd that I looked like I had just rolled out of bed at five o'clock at night, they didn't say, but I could see their weird looks, which I promptly ignored in favor of gazing lovingly at my coffee.

After coffee, my stomach gurgled a bit, reminding me just how insubstantial airplane peanuts are. So I dug my shopping list from my pocket and went to find the nearest store. It was a nice little place. It had groceries and a not too shabby outdoor activities section. I snagged a basket as I walked in and filtered through the aisles, making my selections carefully. I came out with enough groceries to fill two bags, and as soon as I had paid and left the store, I tore the wrapper off a dense protein bar and started in on my dinner.

The walk back to the motel was telling of the kind of town Helena was. It didn't have the frenetic air of big cities. People were polite. It was not unlike my hometown, Eagle Point, just a lot bigger. I wasn't worried about the stolen car thing, because the only cop I saw the entire time I was out was a burly man checking cars' speeds on his radar gun.

I got to my room and set the purchases on the table, before glancing out the window. It was starting to get dark, which is what I was waiting for anyway. On the table, I took out a cheap backpack and started sorting my items out of the bags. My machete, my gun, and the baking soda were among the chief items to be packed, and when I was done, I flipped back the edge of the curtain, happy to see that the sun was starting to dip low in the sky. Winter, early evenings—it was definitely something I could work with.

Pulling the backpack on, but making my gun easily accessible, I set out to find the morgue. It wasn't too bad a walk, and when I got there, I had just enough light to determine how hard it was going to be to break in. Not very, I decided. The front of the building looked all official, with a camera and heavy duty doors. But I wasn't interested in the front. They didn't bring bodies in through the front, they did that through the back.

I skirted around the building, avoiding the one other camera. It was a different make from the one in the front, and the wires leading from it looked suspiciously droopy and sad. A dud, most likely. Glancing at the big door at the back, I grinned. It was made to be wide and accommodating to several people wheeling a gurney around. It was not made to keep inquisitive guests out. In fact, the lock lacked any type of menacing intimidation factor.

I pulled out my lockpick kit and continued to wait. Around seven, the last of the evening light was fading, and the lady inside started closing the place down. She did it with nothing more than a jiggle of the back door to make sure it was still locked and a flick of the lights. Wow. She had just made my day.

Fifteen minutes later, to allow for any unexpected returns to the office, I hustled over to the door and picked the lock. As anticipated, it wasn't super challenging. Slipping inside, I shoved the pickset into my pocket and pulled out a flashlight, keeping the beam low and steady. I didn't need anyone outside to walk by outside and wonder why there was an erratic beam of light sweeping all over the place.

A wall of gleaming metal met my beam, and I walked over to it hurriedly, taking in the segmented sections. Choosing one at random, I grasped the big handle and pulled the door open. Inside was a sliding metal tray, but it was empty. I closed the square door and opened the next in the line of three. That one was also empty. Opening the farthest door to the right revealed a body, lying stiff on the sliding metal tray.

Moore, J.

The tag proclaiming his identity was, indeed, hanging on a piece of string attached to his big toe, and I grimaced, reaching in and pulling the tray out towards me. It slid noisily until I was staring at a body. Thankfully he was covered with cloth.

I turned away, setting my backpack down on the ground as I pulled out several of my new purchases. Then I turned back, snapping some latex gloves onto my hands. "Sorry, Jonathan," I whispered, picking up a syringe and flipping the cloth covering him back a little. Then I wrinkled my nose in distaste and stabbed the first of many syringes into his arm.

My trip to the morgue was the last of my needed preparations, and I headed back to the motel to catch one last day of sleep before I needed to be at the warehouse. I felt a little fuzzy as I lay down, mostly because I knew things were going to get serious tomorrow, and I didn't feel altogether prepared for it. But it couldn't be helped. I needed to do this, and then I would have Finn back.

I closed my eyes and refused to open them again. Thankfully, sleep came.

When my alarm went off again, I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. There was no trace of the sleep-induced fog that usually bogged me down in the mornings. I was awake, and I was ready.

Sitting up, I called Trixie. Finn hadn't woken up yet. _Faith_, I told myself. _She'll come through._ Whether that was true or not, I didn't know. I didn't know Finn's mom very well. But I had to believe that she would. I would do my part, and she would do hers.

Climbing out of bed, I took a shower. As the hot water cascaded down over me, the cold feeling blossomed in my chest again. I was ready.

The Camry was exactly where I had left it. Throwing my duffel in the trunk, and my backpack in the passenger seat, I started the engine with cool precision and followed my printed directions to the warehouse district.

Address is 1843 North Willoughby Avenue, I recited. Warehouse number five. Nine vampires. Two ways in. Four hours to get the girls and get out.

I parked the car behind the abandoned building across the street. Satisfied my stolen ride was hidden, but also easily accessible for a quick getaway, I checked the backpack straps and quietly climbed the rickety fire escape steps to the roof. Walking to the opposite edge of the rooftop, I pulled out a pair of binoculars, already having removed them from the plastic packaging back at the motel.

The warehouse was rented under the name Ward Henley, according to the documentation Finn's mom had tracked down, and there were two cars parked outside the big loading doors. One was an SUV, and the other a truck. They didn't tell me much, other than the vampires were smart enough to get tinted windows, which in the grand scheme of things, told me nothing. No, what I really wanted to know was how things were set up inside.

I peered through the binoculars in search of anything that might give me a better idea to the layout of the warehouse, but the windows were all heavily shuttered, and the only doors were solid metal. I would be going in blind. But then again, I had already kind of known that, so it wasn't a huge shock or anything.

Checking my watch, I pursed my lips and settled in to wait.

I had gone through two hand-warmers and three granola bars by the time things got moving. It was just before dusk that I got my first real glimpse of the vampires.

All nine vampires erupted from side door in the alley at the same time, streaming out to the front of the warehouse where the cars were. "Well, hello there," I murmured into my binoculars. Five of the men climbed into the black SUV. They were laughing and joking around as if they were headed out to a party, not on their way to kidnap someone. The other three piled into a the pickup truck with a covered bed. I bet that was where they stashed the victims or transported the bodies that needed to disappear.

My stomach roiled at the thought, but I pushed past it. I was not here to get angry. I was here to keep a cool head and do my job.

The vehicles pulled away, leaving one lone vampire standing by himself. He was younger than the others and wasn't much taller or older than me. But it didn't matter. _He's a vampire_, I reminded myself. _And not the sparkly, friendly kind._

Not Sparkly glanced around a little, almost as if uneasy, before stuffing his hands in his pockets and going back inside. _Yeah, bucko, I would be uneasy too if a girl with everything to lose was about to come busting down your door in search of your human bloodbags. _I stood up, putting the binoculars away and pulling out a small orange box from my backpack. Baking Soda, it happily proclaimed, displaying a picture of a muscular arm holding a hammer.

Popping the tab in the corner, I sprinkled a hearty amount around the ground where I had been camped out. It wasn't the best scent-killer, but it would mask my odor if the vamps ever came sniffing around my lookey-lou spot. Even if it didn't completely mask my scent, it couldn't hurt.

After forty-five minutes or so, I gathered my things from the car and walked across the street. I approached from the east so that the vampire wouldn't see me coming, even if he was watching, which I highly doubted.

I went around the side alley and placed my backpack a few feet away from the door. Then I took a deep breath and screamed, falling to the ground as I released blood over my stomach. It was cold and slick, and I felt vaguely guilty for ruining a perfectly good shirt, but I had to get in the warehouse somehow. This was somehow.

After another scream, there was a slight creaking of the metal door, and that was all the warning I got before the vampire appeared on my right. "Help me," I whimpered, clutching my stomach with one hand. "There...there was a man. He had a...a...knife." I sobbed dramatically, but the vamp's eyes weren't on my face. They were on the blood seeping through my fingers. His nostrils flared, and then his eyes widened.

_Yeah, that's right, _I mentally sneered_._ Old blood, probably had a different smell. But it was too late for him even though he was just now realizing it. I slammed my hand into the side of his leg, depressing the plunger on the syringe I held, and injected him with a sample of the very same blood that decorated my shirt. Deadman's blood. Jonathan Moore's blood to be exact.

Not Sparkly staggered away from me, and I leapt up again, kicking his unsteady legs out from under him as he collapsed. Boom. Riley one, vampires zero.

Not wanting to take any chances with how long he was going to be out, I grabbed his arm and dragged him backward into the warehouse, snagging my backpack before going inside.

Then I did something I never would have dreamed of doing a couple years ago. I dragged my machete out of the sheath pressed to my back under my shirt, and I swung it downwards with all my might. Blood flew—disgustingly enough—and this time splashed on me in an entirely unintended way. Some even got on my face. I wiped it off quickly with a swipe of my sleeve, not wanted to get any in my mouth. Going into a vampiric transition was _not_ in the cards this time.

Using the relatively clean hem of my shirt, I swept the blade clean of blood and ventured into the murky gloom of the warehouse.


	2. Enter Mika

Disclaimer: Bobby Singer is not my character.

A/N: Sorry for the long update time. Yeesh.

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><p>The warehouse was actually pretty clean—for a nest of serial killers. There were couches and chairs scattered about in the main area, and a kitchen was tucked into one corner. Random bedrooms were behind open doorways, and I searched through the rooms methodically, peering around corners and metal posts with clinical caution, even though I knew there was only one vampire standing guard. One vampire that I had just killed.<p>

_No_, I commanded myself. _Think about it later. For now, you have more important things to do. _It still didn't wash out the horrible, sick feeling gnawing at the back of my mind. But I shook the thoughts free and focused on finding the girls.

The room I was looking for kind of threw me for a loop. I had expected a "Dungeons-R-Us" type vibe, but what I found was on the other end of the spectrum. It was a definite room, and it was definitely decorated for girls. The only giveaway was the massive, iron jail-cell door across the opening. The worst part maybe, was that it was interspersed with all the other rooms. Like having a cell was no big deal. Oh, need to restrain these kidnapped girls? Let's just slap some bars on the door. It was sick.

I hustled up to the iron grating, inwardly cursing at the heavy chains and padlock that secured it. I had many things in my handy-dandy pack, but bolt cutters or a welding torch were not included. In the movies, the people sometimes shoot the lock, and while I trusted my accuracy, I didn't trust the potential for ricochet.

Fine, then. I sat in a huff, pulling my backpack around and digging through it for my lockpick kit. _Using it twice in as many days,_ I mused. _I am such a criminal._ It wasn't even funny anymore. I scowled as I inserted the tension wrench. Then I inserted the pick, still scowling, and jiggled it slightly in hopes that I could set at least a few of the tumblers right off the bat. The logo on the lock was American, which meant that there were probably at least five tumblers, and the almost silent clicks told me that I'd gotten two done.

I rolled my eyes, blowing a stray piece of hair out of my face before going back to work. In the movies, the actors bend down, pick the lock, and are inside in less than a minute. In reality, that was bullcrap, and it was seriously slow going.

Eventually, the lock dropped open, and I almost didn't even notice. When I did, though, there was a definite victory dance, bloody machete in hand and all. Then I reigned myself in and proceeded into the room. There were two beds with pink blankets. Two desks painted purple. No closets. A few books were strewn about, and there were a few boyband posters decorating the walls. Other than that, the place was pretty bare.

I turned my attention from the decorating job to the actual occupants. Both were girls, and both were lying prone on the beds. Only one looked like she was breathing.

My heart hammered wildly in my chest, and I made my way forward cautiously, going to the girl who was most definitely not breathing. I eased up to her side, holding my machete ready as I pressed two fingers against her very pale, very cool neck. Nothing. I moved my fingers to her wrist, wanting to deny what I already knew was true. No pulse, again. Her skin was too cold for her to be alive, she wasn't breathing, and she didn't have a heart beat.

She was dead.

My stomach turned violently. There were bite marks on her neck. Not the neat, two-hole puncture from popular fiction. These were big bite marks, and they were layered across her neck and arms.

Any guilt over killing the vampire earlier disappeared. I was cold and furious, and I didn't even know this girl. She was young, which made it worse. My age, maybe a few years older. In my head, I called the vampires I'd seen earlier several uncharitable, R-rated names. Then I set my anger aside and went to the next bed.

The girl there was still breathing, thankfully, but her skin was pale. She looked like she was barely hanging in there. I brushed the long sandy-colored strands of hair out of her face. Then I froze. Holy. Crap. Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap.

She had a heart shaped face, all graceful curves and ridges. But three things stood out to me like beacons. First was her nose, straight and narrow. Second was her cheekbones, delicate and proud. Third was her mouth, thin and expressive. Right now her lips were chapped and pressed into a tight grimace, but I knew just how expressive they could be, because I often found myself staring at another pair just like them.

_They have someone I want_, Finn's mother had said. Understatement of the freaking year, lady.

I pressed my fingers to the girl's neck, feeling for a pulse. It was weak and fast. Not good. Not good at all. But at my touch, her eyes snapped open, and I added yet another physical feature that stood out. Her eyes, dazed and dull as they were, shared the same hazy blue and gray tones of the apparent McAllister genetic code. This was...this was utterly ridiculous. I had never in my life met three people that looked so similar. It was mind-boggling.

I stepped back from the bed, lost and reeling for the second time this week. Holy crap. Finn had a sister. Finn had a sister that he'd never even told me about.

On the bed, she moaned, and I snapped back into a business mode. "Aren't you a little short to be a vampire," came her first words in a hazy, yet definitely sardonic tone. Oh my gosh. Could she really be quoting from my favorite sci-fi movies?

I moved forward again, getting an arm under her shoulders and helping her sit up. "I'm Luke Skywalker. I'm here to rescue you," I told her.

"Star Wars," she with a teensy, exhausted snort, her head lolling against my shoulder.

"Star Wars, indeed. At least you're better versed in the cinematic universe than your brother. Can you stand?" I really didn't know whether she could stand or not, and with the way she looked, I was leaning towards a no on that one.

But to my surprise, she slid her legs off the bed in jerky, uncoordinated movements. Then she latched onto my shirt and pulled herself upright. Wow. Color me impressed. "I don't have a brother," she grated, voice hoarse as she struggled to balance against me. My eyes widened, and I froze, incidentally making it easier for her to remain upright.

"Oh," I said, channeling my one hundred percent extremely proficient mastery of tact. "Well, that's nice." Then we made our way toward the door.

"What about Kate?" she said softly, sagging against me slightly as she reached one thin, bruised arm back towards the girl on the bed.

"Don't worry about Kate," I said. "I'm more concerned about you at this point." Oh gosh, how was I going to tell her? She obviously knew the girl on the other bed, but didn't know Kate was dead. How was I supposed to break news like that to someone who was seemingly so fragile? I wasn't, I decided. At least not right now.

The girl glommed onto my side, staggered a few steps, and then collapsed, half dragging me down with her. "No, no, no," I told her quickly. "We have to keep moving. We need as much of a headstart as we can get before they come back and find you're gone."

"So tired," she whispered, her eyes taking on a vacant dullness that scared me.

"Just hold it together—" I stopped, realizing I didn't even know her name. Shaking her shoulder, I asked her exactly that.

"Mika," she barely got out before her eyes slid shut.

"Okay, Mika. Just hold it together for a few more minutes. Can you do that for me? Come on, open your eyes, sweetie," I pleaded. Her eyelids fluttered, and I saw a crack of blue. "Good," I praised. "Now we're going to get up and make it to the door, then we can rest. Ready?" She nodded.

"Okay," I said. "Ready, set, go." On go, I heaved her upright, and we battled our way towards the outer door I'd come in. Unfortunately, our path took us by the body of the downed vampire.

Again surprising me, Mika found a sudden burst of strength as we went by. She clung to me and let out a little sob, and her foot flashed out, kicking the dead vampire in the side. Another sob, another kick. I let her, knowing that anything was better than her previous dazed acceptance.

Finally, Mika's strength faded, and I got us moving forward again. When we reached the exit, I shoved the door open and propped her against the metal frame. "Alright, you can take a two-second break. I'm going to be right back." Mika's fingers were clamped on my arm as I turned back to the room, but I gently broke free of them. "I'm coming back. I'll only be a second, I promise."

Jogging back to the room where I'd found her, I pulled a can of Axe body spray and a roll of duct tape of my backpack. Tearing a strip of tape off, I quickly slapped it over the spray can nozzle and tossed the improvised grenade into the room. It hissed loudly, venting noxious man fumes into the air. I turned and ran, repeating the process again as I got closer to the doorway.

Then, for my big finale, I produced a giant spray can of "Tahitian Sunset" air freshener and let it fall to the floor. I didn't know what a Tahitian sunset smelled like, but if it was anything like what came out of the can, I was going to avoid Tahiti for the rest of my life. The round, metal cylinder clanked to the ground and rolled to the middle of the room after an encouraging nudge of my toe, coming to rest against the leg of a coffee table. I didn't use my smelly bomb idea with this one. No, I had something special in mind.

"Alright, Mika. Ready to go? My car is just across the street." I said it more to rouse her than to ask her opinion. We were going, if I had to drag her with me or not. Nudging her outside, I followed, until we were both completely shielded by the heavy metal wall. Then I stuck my head and arm back inside the room, taking careful aim with my gun. "T-minus three...two...one," I intoned. Upon reaching one, I pulled the trigger.

Boom. The can exploded. I didn't see it, because I was busy whipping my head and arm back outside of the warehouse and covering Mika with my body. But the sound of the explosion reverberated, shaking the metal siding slightly, and the heatwave was pretty awesome coming out the door. "Oh, look, Mika. A Tahitian Sunset," I remarked, entirely too excited as I straightened and watched a cheery glow from blazing furniture emit from the doorway.

"Boom goes the dynamite," Mika muttered, and then she passed out in my arms. I liked her already.

Shoving my gun into its shoulder holster, I swept Mika up onto my shoulder. It wasn't easy, and she kept sliding around, but eventually I got her in a passable fireman's carry. She was pitifully light, on top of being a petite thirteen or fourteen year old, so it wasn't too bad as I staggered across the street in search of my car.

After what seemed like ages later, I dropped her into the backseat and started the stolen Camry. It chugged faithfully to life, and I pulled out onto the road, more or less pleased with my own bad-assery. Stole a car. Killed a vampire. Rescued a girl. Yep, that was me. Riley Stewart, professional bad-ass.

I drove until the car was almost out of gas. Then I parked the car in a random parking lot, stripped off my bloody shirt, and scrubbed the remaining specks of dried blood off my neck and chin. Being passably presentable, I locked the doors and walked two blocks over to a gas station.

Gas stations all had cameras, and I wasn't totally interested in getting recorded in a freshly stolen car. So I carried two plastic, three-gallon gas cans to the station, filled them up, and bee-lined it back to the car. It looked undisturbed, which was a relief, and I filled the tank with my cans before tossing them in the trunk. Then it was back on the road for us.

Mika didn't wake up often, but when she did, I made her drink lots of water. She also choked down a protein bar after what seemed like an hour of threatening, urging, and haggling. Which, of course, made me finally understood what it must have been like for Dean to get me to eat and drink during the wendigo fiasco. Somewhere up there, God was laughing at my complete role reversal, and I was very much so not laughing along.

Around four in the afternoon, I stopped and got more gas. Then we both managed a bathroom break around back of the lonely gas station. I had gone inside and gotten the key, and then we'd made the two-person trek. Mika was definitely stronger, though, than she had been before. It made things that much easier that she could walk, talk, and function on her own for short bursts.

We hit the road again after getting a few snacks, and this time Mika decided to hang out in the front seat. The car was made in the early nineties, and the radio only worked on occasion, but it made time pass more quickly. Mika played DJ in her bouts of consciousness, and I mostly brooded over what we were going to do next.

Around six, I pulled off the freeway and found the closest motel. Paying for a room that was tucked farthest away from anything and everything, I unloaded my nearly unconscious charge and our bags. Mika collapsed onto the bed, and I went straight to the bathroom.

I jumped in the shower quickly, knowing that if I stayed out, I was going to start thinking about what I'd done, and if I did that, then things were going to get ugly. So, being the typical college student that I was, I procrastinated facing my problems by stepping into a stream of hot water.

When I got out again, I was clean of all dried blood. The evidence that I had brazenly decapitated someone had long since been washed down the drain. I dressed mechanically and then stared blankly at the mirror, pulling a brush through my hair and trying to ignore coldness inside me despite having just put on my favorite sweatshirt.

Actually, it wasn't mine. It was Finn's, and I had stolen it. The sleeves were too long, and it was more like a parka on me, but I loved it anyway. It was soft, and it smelled unmistakably like him. Pulling the collar of the hoodie up over my nose, I inhaled deeply. Then, I just wanted to cry.

Instead, I called Trixie. She nestled the phone next to Finn's ear for me, and then walked away. I heard her call out that she'd be back in five minutes, her voice distant and slightly tinny. I pursed my lips, my throat hurting and eyes prickling for a second. She hadn't even questioned my request. Man, how did I get such a friend like her?

Having only five minutes, I went out and curled up on the bed, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder. "I killed someone, today," I told Finn. "I cut his head off, and it was probably the most horrible thing I've ever done." Silence. Heavy, vacuous silence.

"What if he had a family before all this?" I questioned. "What if they don't know what happened to him, and now they never will?" I sighed, wondering if all Hunters felt the post-Hunt crash of melancholic quasi-morality. Then I reminded myself that he had been a bloodthirsty vampire in a nest of eight other bloodthirsty vampires.

"I think they're going to come looking for us," I told him. "There's going to be a lot of bloodshed over these next few days. I don't want to kill. I hate it. But it's either kill or be killed, and I'm not just fighting for me now." Dang, that was true in more ways than one. Another pause. I turned pensive.

"Had an art show. My work was really good, Finn. Really, really good. I was normal. I was _being_ normal. Jeez, when did that even start happening?" I gave a shuddered exhalation, quietly grieving what I'd been able to attain in those long months. Peaceful. They had been peaceful beyond belief. And here I was, starting up the killing again. "Why did I ever think this was a good way to live?" I murmured. "If I'd just tried a little harder, waited a little longer, I could have made myself normal all that time ago. But no, I didn't. Now I'm a killer, and you're in a coma." I pinched the bridge of my nose tiredly. "Sometimes I wonder if I'd just stayed away from the supernatural, then maybe none of this would have ever happened. Is that a bad thing to wish for, knowing how many people I've helped along the way?"

There was no response, and I felt foolish for hoping there would be.

"One day at a time, I guess," I said, choking up. "I'm just going to take it one day at a time."

"Riley?" Trixie called, a polite indication that she was back. I fell silent, listening to the faint sound of Finn breathing. Then the speaker was filled with jostling noises, and Trixie was back. I thanked her and then hung up, unable to stomach an actual conversation.

I put the phone on the nightstand, right next a bottle of water and a bag of beef jerky for Mika in case she woke up during the night. Then I snuggled down, pulling the hood up around my head and breathing in the scent of Finn. This sweatshirt was the only physical reminder I had of him. It was only item that carried his scent, and I valued it more highly than any of my possessions right now.

Any of them. Including my—albeit stolen—car.

I fell asleep, thinking of Finn.

In my dreams, Finn was awake. In my dreams, we were together, living a normal life in every sense of the word. In my dreams, there were no monsters, no people, no nothing. It was just Finn and I, existing in perfect harmony.

When I woke, tears were slowly streaking down my cheeks. I hadn't even known it was possible to cry during sleep. I swiped the tears away, sitting up. Mika was still asleep, resting peacefully on her side. I moved to the end of the bed, looking down at my duffle bag. Last night, I had placed a syringe of dead man's blood on top of it. There was another syringe nestled at the back of the nightstand as well.

I gazed at the murky, red blood, and I remembered the hot splash of vampire blood across my neck and face during the decapitation. I was so lost in the memory that I almost missed the small jiggle of the doorknob. Almost, but not quite.

I was out of bed in an instant, snatching up the syringe in my left hand and my gun in the other as I spun to the far side of the room. Human or vampire, whomever was outside our door was about to be in a world of hurt.

It was a vampire. Not even two seconds after I moved, the door exploded inwards, and a man appeared in the middle room. He froze for a second, catching sight of Mika and the empty bed beside her, and that proved to be his undoing.

I had never even slowed down and only needed to pivot on one foot before I was close enough to slam the syringe into his shoulder, depressing the plunger fully before he had a chance to turn around.

A second later, he went down in an unconscious heap, and I was left with spiking adrenaline and the mad desire to chop his head off. Instead, I remained rational and went to the nightstand, picking up my phone with shaking hands.

I dialed quickly, staring down—unperturbed—at the vampire as the phone rang. I recognized him from the pictures. Why he was here alone, or even here at all, was beyond me. Not knowing how he'd found us so quickly or why he was alone scared me, though. But I had known this would happen. Known it could proceed no other way.

"Yeah?" came a rough growl after a quiet click of the phone connection. Woah, only old school phones made that kind of noise upon being picking up.

"Bobby Singer? Dean Winchester gave me your number," I stated.

There was a pause. Then another gruff, "Yeah?"

I nudged the vampire with my toe, wondering how long I had until he woke up again. "There's an unconscious vampire, dosed approximately sixty seconds ago with two CCs of dead man's blood, lying on the floor of my motel room."

I took a deep breath and let it out, feeling the coldness creep up in my chest. "How do I make it disappear?"


	3. Finn

Disclaimer: Supernatural characters are not mine.

A/N: Wolfenergy17, as requested. Since you, you know, read these things. :P

* * *

><p>As it turned out, getting rid of a body wasn't nearly as complicated as I thought. Bobby Singer talked me through it with gruff, redneck charm, and I learned how dispose of a body at three in the morning.<p>

Plus, I was once again reminded how advantageous cheap motels were for conducting illicit activity. I left a two hundred dollars, hoping that would cover the damage to the door, and drove out of there, body tucked neatly in my trunk.

I was driving a stolen car with a body in the trunk. Good heavens, I was a stereotypical Hollywood villain. Except this was real life, and I _had a body in the trunk_.

I let out a deep breath, turning onto what could possibly be the most abandon road ever. Yeah, this looked like an acceptable route to find a hole to bury the vamp. Holy crap, did that thought really just cross my mind? I clenched the steering wheel, shaking my head. Whatever it took to get the job done.

Deep breath. _Deep breath, Ri,_ I told myself. I glanced over to see Mika sagging sleepily against the window, head pillowed against her arms. I was doing this for her, for Finn. No matter what it took.

It was kind of scary, all the things that kind of blanket statement could cover. It was even scarier that I meant it one hundred percent. I was reminded, yet again, just how chilling the Hunter mentality could be. Yeesh, we were a bunch of maniacs.

My phone rang, and I picked up quickly. "Riley," I said briskly.

"Is it done?" Bobby Singer demanded.

"Almost," I confirmed, pulling off the road into a tiny clearing. This would do nicely.

"Well, hurry it up, girl. You're making me nervous, cutting it so close." I could have taken offense at being called "girl," and ordinarily I would have, but Bobby had this tone about him. It was more of a term of concern than an insult. He knew how young I was, and that made him nervous. It used to make me nervous too, but I'd gotten over it when I realized that anything trying to kill me didn't give a flying hoot about how young or old I was.

Bobby hung up, and I shut the car off, climbing out and going to the trunk. I had another syringe of dead man's blood held ready, but it didn't sound like the vampire was conscious yet. After a long moment of listening, I popped the trunk and injected the vamp again. Boom, one and done. Then I dragged the man out, and got my newest purchase out of the backseat. It was a shovel, and I had felt like my face was broadcasting my criminal intentions as I'd gone into the store to buy it. No one had stopped me, though, or demanded to check the contents of my car, so I'd taken my purchase and driven out here to bury the soon-to-be vampire corpse.

The vampire was completely out of it as I dug his grave, and my thoughts grew darker and darker as I was overcome with the realization of what I was doing. I mean, who goes around digging graves for people they haven't killed yet? Psychopaths, that's who. I scowled, shaking the darkness away, and focusing on my work. Two feet deep, three feet, four feet. I got to five feet and took a break, already sweaty and gross. This was awful, definitely worse than digging up a grave to salt-and-burn the bones.

I finished the six foot grave requirement—anything less and the animals would just dig up the corpse, and I would join the ranks of idjits in who landed in prison through sheer laziness, Bobby had said.

Then I dragged the vamp over, pulling out my machete. I'd thought that after the first time, it would be easier to cut off a random man's head, but I was wrong. As I stared down at him, hands for some reason perfectly steady, I almost couldn't do it. Then I remembered, the clammy paleness of Mika's skin and the bite marks that had covered Kate's neck. The cold bloomed in my chest, and I brought the machete down in an unyielding arch.

After it was done, I rolled the rest of the body into the grave and set the whole thing on fire. Bobby hadn't specified it, but I didn't care. Replacing the dirt, shovelful by shovelful eventually put the flames out, and when it was done, I took shovel to the trunk and slammed the lid down. Climbing back in the car, I dialed up Bobby again. "It's done. Thank you for your help," I concluded flatly.

"Oh. Er, you're welcome…" Bobby seemed to be at a bit of a loss, and I took the opportunity to hang up. I didn't feel like chatting.

Mika didn't even stir in the passenger seat, and I was glad she had missed all of this. In fact, it wasn't until a few hours later that she actually woke up. She rubbed a hand across her face, sitting up. I was staring straight ahead out the windshield as I drove, thinking about how the vampire had found us in the first place and getting nowhere.

"What happened to your hands?" Mika grated out, her voice hoarse.

I glanced down at my hands clenching the steering wheel, noting the dried blood flecking the knuckles of both. "Nothing you need to worry about," I said sharply. "Drink some water."

A minute later, my brain caught up to me, and I realized how harsh that had been. "Sorry," I said quietly. "It's been a long morning."

"They found us, didn't they?" She sounded scared, and I didn't blame her.

"Yes," I said truthfully. Mika twisted in her seat, fishing a bottle of water from the backseat. She picked at the label, ripping it slowly from the bottle.

"I'm sorry," she said with a slight sob. "It's my fault they're coming after us. You should just leave me, before anyone else gets hurt." Her thin shoulders shook silently, and for a moment I flashed back to the time Sam and Dean had saved me from vampires. It was almost laughable how I was in nearly the exact same situation.

"I'm not going anywhere," I assured her. It took a long minute, but eventually her silent sobs stopped.

Then she looked over at me, anguish heavy in her eyes. "They killed Kate, didn't they?"

"Yes," I said, again completely truthful while wishing I could just lie.

"My fault," she said in a hollow voice.

"Vampires' fault," I told her, heat coming into my voice. I remembered feeling like that. Feeling that every death at the hands of a vampire was my fault, because it had been me they were looking for. "They killed Kate, but we're going to kill all of them."

"I don't want to kill anyone," she sniffled. Good, not as bloodthirsty as I had been back then.

"That's okay. I'll do it for you." She looked over at me, a little awed maybe. Holy crap, did I really just say that?

"Who are you?" she asked, incredulous.

"Riley," I said, feeling a swirl of Deja Vu. I'd had this conversation before, staring into those same gray-blue eyes.

Fear crept back onto Mika's face, replacing the awe. "What if they kill you?"

I pursed my lips. "Vampires may be preternaturally strong and freaking fast, but they were once humans, and let me tell you, stupidity...arrogance? Those are hard habits to break." I was thoughtful for a second, then I shrugged. "Look at me, though. I'm not very big or tall or super ripped. But then, I don't necessarily have to be, because I'm smart. I'm patient, and I think things through. I like being alive, and I've worked very hard to keep it that way."

Mika gazed out the window, maybe pondering that. "My mom fought vampires once. I thought she would come for me."

"She had something she really needed to do. But she sent me instead." I didn't know how much to tell Mika, didn't know how much her mom had already told her.

Mika twisted toward me, fire in her eyes. "Why didn't she come for me—her own daughter? And why the hell did you?" she demanded.

_To save her son_, I thought rather blandly, in answer to both. Actually, now that Mika had brought it up, this situation was totally screwed up from start to finish. Had Finn's mom seriously abandoned her daughter to go save her son? I mean, she had trusted _me_ to save Mika. How messed up was that? She didn't even know me. Yowza.

Mika was still waiting for an answer, so I just gave her one, throwing all caution to the wind. "You have a brother," I said. Then I plowed on, words spilling out of my mouth so fast that Mika didn't even have a chance to speak. "He's been in a coma, and your mom finally found a way to wake him up. She made a deal with someone, but it was time sensitive, so she had to go to Michigan. She sent me here to get you and Kate out, which apparently entails killing the entire nest of vampires as they come after us. So that's pretty awesome."

Mika looked stunned, her jaw working. "You're lying," she said tightly.

"Yeah," I said cheerfully. "I am. I totally made that whole thing up off the top of my head for fun. No, I'm not lying! Get your head out of your butt. Why else would I be here? Why else would your mom be gone? She told me the only way I was ever going to see Finn awake again was to save you. So really, you best prepare for the roadtrip of a lifetime, because Imma save Finn and you and any other poor sap that needs it if it's the last thing I do." I sat back in my seat, breathing hard. Lordy, listen to me, all worked up. It wasn't like I had some fourteen year old girl's life in my hands right now or anything.

Oh wait. I had the distinct pleasure of being stuck with that reality. Mika and I would totally die terrible, gruesome deaths if my best wasn't good enough, and I'd had enough of holding a McAllister life in the palm of my hand for a lifetime, thank you very much. But here I was, fleeing across the countryside in hopes that I might be able to outrun a nest of vindictive serial killer vampires long enough to pick them off one by one.

And part of me kind of liked it.

And with that realization, the frustration that plagued me snapped into focus. That's what I was really angry about. Not the Hunt, not Finn's mom. I was mad because I liked this. I'd had something so normal, but the second I was Hunting again…

I liked the thrill. Liked the power. Liked the knowledge that I was making a tangible difference.

"You're a liar, and I hate you," Mika snapped, crossing her arms and turning to face out the window. I almost laughed, but that would have made things even worse. It was easy to forget, with her solemnity and intelligence, that she was just a young girl.

We drove in silence for a couple hours. I used the time to come up with a plan for the next round of vampire hide-and-seek. I hadn't been lying when I'd told Mika that arrogance and stupidity transferred over from human to vampire. But the same was true about cruelty and ruthlessness. I didn't know what kind of men I was going up against, and part of me wondered if that was going to get us both killed.

More than anything, though, I just wanted to talk to Finn. But today was Trixie's day off, so there would be no stolen conversations, no pouring out my heart to a guy who legitimately _had_ to listen. But...I had the next best thing.

And she was sitting in the seat beside me, locked in a moving car, which meant she _had_ to listen, too.

"His name is Finn," I said slowly. "He's twenty-two. Looks just like your mom, just like you, really, except for some small things. We were Hunting a wendigo, and he got hurt. I did, too. But I got better. He didn't." I paused, not knowing what I was going to say next. Then the words just started coming, and I couldn't make them stop. I told Mika everything—how Finn and I met, what we'd done together, everything.

Her gaze remained locked out the window, but I could see she was listening, and that was all that mattered to me. I needed to talk, and she needed to know about Finn. I started crying partway through my monologue, and it was pretty pathetic. But I couldn't hold it back, because the hole inside my chest was always there, and I couldn't stop myself once I'd pulled off the band-aid.

On the upside, by the time we pulled into a motel parking lot for the night, neither of us really had anything left to say. I checked us in, and then we totally crashed on the beds like a couple of awkward, socially impaired lemurs. Actually, I knew very little about lemurs—other than what I'd learned in the animated movie _Madagascar_—so it really could have just been the lack of sleep getting to me.

I locked the door, not that it would do much good against a vampire, and set one of the remaining three syringes of blood on the nightstand. Then I laid down, resting my head in the crook of my arm. Mika gazed over at me, half her face hidden by the pillow. "I really have a brother?" she asked in a small, small voice.

"You really do," I confirmed, taking no pleasure in her ignorance. Finn's mom was a terrible person. I wasn't in a position to judge, but boy howdy, I was judging like my name was Judy. I pinched the bridge of my nose. My references were getting sloppier, and I wasn't making much sense, even to myself. Sleep, I needed sleep.

"I'm sorry for calling you a liar," Mika whispered.

"It's okay. I'm sorry your mom is a lying bitch," I said back. Then I slapped a hand over my mouth. Oh, no. Had I really just said that? Oh my gosh. I was a terrible person. "Sorry," I said again. "I'm tired. No filter. Finn usually just puts a hand over my mouth when I get like this." Then I froze. Should I be talking about Finn with her? Was that inconsiderate of me?

She was quiet for a long time, and I wondered if she'd fallen asleep. "Do you love him?" she asked finally, letting me know she hadn't.

I stared up at the ceiling. Did I love him? "I don't know," I admitted. "I'm only twenty. I don't think I even know what love _is_ yet. But I've never felt this way for anyone else. So...I think...maybe, yeah."

"You just...you talk about him—to him, even—like he means something to you. That's all." Holy crap. This was a fourteen year old I was talking to. She was supposed to be obsessed with Justin Beiber, not psychoanalyzing my relationships.

"Go to sleep, smarty pants," I said with a snort. And she did, leaving me to stare up into the darkness. Did I love Finn? I didn't even begin to know where to start with that one. I liked him. I liked him a lot. But where was the line between "feel strongly for" and "love?" Because from where I was standing, there was no such line in sight, and that boggled my realist, semi-logic based brain.

Yowza. I needed sleep, not philosophical ruminations.

Turning off my brain, which was a lot easier than usual due to lack of sleep, I closed my eyes and drifted off.

Of course, what felt like only minutes later, I was awakened by Mika's hysterical crying. Clawing my eyes open and brandishing my handy-dandy machete, it took me a few seconds to realize that danger was not imminent, and she was still lost in the clutches of a dream. Or a nightmare, really. Not surprising, considering what she'd been through.

I set the machete down, letting out a shuddered groan. Then I clambered off my bed onto hers. I don't really remember making the conscious decision on what to say, but I do know I said a lot of "Shhh, it's okay. You're safe now." with a couple "I'm gonna kill those sons of bananas." It wasn't my finest hour, but Mika seemed to calm down. She didn't even wake up.

I set up camp on her bed, leaning against the cheap plaster wall, while she snuggled half on me, half on the bed. I didn't mind. Still, sleep was nagging at the back of my mind, and I was just starting to give in again when the phone rang.

A few less-than-family-friendly words spewed out of my mouth, and I groped around on the nightstand, pulling my phone off it without impaling myself on the syringe. "This better be good," I snapped, eying the glowing single digit numbers on the alarm clock.

Trixie starting yelling in my ear, and I understood nothing but the word "Finn," over and over again.

"What?" I demanded for the fifth time, my brain feeling all floaty and full of cotton.

"He's awake!" screamed Trixie.

The phone slipped from my hand, falling into my lap, as I stared straight ahead. _Finn, Finn, Finn,_ chanted my brain, fixing itself on a never-ending litany of his name.

"I don't know how, but yesterday a lady came to see him. She's his mom or whatever. I don't know all the details, because it was my day off. But now, he's awake, and he's asking for you." Never mind that the phone was sitting in my lap, I could hear her just fine. My brain was still numb, though.

"He's awake," I murmured to no one in particular.

"I'm putting him on," Trixie announced. My eyes widened, and my heart started pounding. I fumbled for the phone, cradling it against my ear like it was the most precious thing in the world. _Could it be true?_ I wondered, not knowing if this was all some kind of horrible joke. But then...

"Hey," he said, his voice low and weak. I lost the ability to breathe, my lungs refusing to move. That voice. I knew that voice. Finn. He was awake. He was really awake. Mika stirred, and I rubbed her back a little. She settled, pillowing her head against my thigh.

"Hey, yourself," I managed to choke out. I was trying not to cry and barely succeeding.

"I heard you reading to me. I heard you the whole time." There was urgency in his words, like he _needed_ to say them. Oh my gosh. Waterworks imminent in three, two, one. He coughed. "Pride and Prejudice was actually pretty good. I liked it when you did the different voices." Yep, I was definitely crying now. My vision blurred under a watery onslaught.

I covered my mouth with my free hand, willing my breath to come out steady instead of shaky and erratic. Finn paused for a beat, then continued on a more serious note. "You waited for me."

"Yes," I said simply. There had never been a question about it. I'd never even considered doing anything else, no matter how long it took for him to wake up. Oh. Okay, maybe now I kind of understood why my parents had been so worried.

"She's here with me right now." His voice was almost too quiet to hear, but I knew what he was talking about. His mother was with him. She had been the first person he'd seen upon waking up, and that kind of hurt. Selfishly, I had wanted it to be me. Instead, I was stuck on the other side of the country, waiting to kill whatever came to find me.

"Yes," I said, not wanting any of my bitterness to come out in my voice and taint this moment.

"You're being hunted by vampires," he said, his voice becoming a little stronger.

"Yes." I was being hunted. Why she had told him was beyond me. I hated her. Before, I had been undecided, but now I just plain hated her.

"Do you at least have a plan?" he asked, almost desperately. Did I have a plan? Heck no.

"I have a plan," I confirmed, tucking a piece of Mika's hair behind her ear. She slept on, and I liked it that way. Somehow sleeping always takes the horror out of life. The bad things are softened because sleep is an escape, even if only for a little bit. She'd had one too many bad things happen to her over the last few weeks, even an idiot could see that.

"Liar," Finn said, somehow able to tell.

"I have twelve percent of a plan," I said, revising my earlier statement. A long beat of silence followed, and I rested my hand on Mika's shoulder.

"I think…" Finn started, but trailed off, worrying me. That I was lying? That he needed to take a break and rest? That he never wanted to see me again? _Woah, nelly,_ I scolded myself, feeling kind of sick. Where had that one come from?

"I think I really like you," he said slowly. My eyebrows shot up. Oh thank God. Something I could handle. His next words blew me out of the water, though. "Riley, will you be my girlfriend?"

"Wh...what?" I squawked, not seeing that coming at all. I stared at the wall in front of me, eyes wide. Finn liked me. Finn liked me a lot. He wanted to be my boyfriend. My very first boyfriend. Holy moley. Then I bit my lip. "You're seriously asking me out over the phone?"

"Um...yes?" His voice was soft, now, and shy. I loved it when he got all shy.

There was loud, brisk beeping in the background, and I realized it was the heart rate monitor. And boy oh boy was it beeping rather fast. Hah, cool, untouchable Finn was really nervous about asking me out apparently.

The week's compounded stress kind of smashed down on me, and I snapped. I tipped my head back and laughed.

Finally, after a few minutes, I got myself under control, and my laughter died off in the remnants of a choked giggle. Finn was still there on the other end, waiting for a response. I felt kind of bad, knowing he was probably freaking out right now. But I was just… He was just… This was…

Finn wanted to date me, and that meant everything to me, right now. But he was asking me out over the phone. So I said the first thing that came to mind. "Um, no, turd. Try again." Then I hung up, grinning like an idiot. He liiiiiked me. A slightly hysterical giggle slipped out, and I realized just how tired I was. But I didn't care. Because Finn was awake, and he was really for realsies my boyfriend now, and it wasn't even the kind of relationship middle schoolers have, and I was really excited that he thought I was, I don't know, cool enough to date or whatever.

Me, Riley Stewart, queen of bacon and sass. Me, killer of monsters and nightmares. Me, morning-hater and coffee addict.

God. How did I get so lucky?


	4. Doubling Down

Disclaimer: Bobby Singer is not my character.

A/N: My last chapter ended so happily. But now it's back to Riley angst. Enjoy! :)

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><p>I woke up around six, still sprawled together with Mika. No one had tried to kill us in the four hours that I'd been asleep, so that was nice. Mika's warmth against my hip and shoulder was nice, too. I'd forgotten what it was like, being so close to someone. Libby and I had shared beds all the time in high school, more often than not, just randomly crashing at each other's houses. And now, lying here with Mika, I remembered the comfort that human contact brought. Remembered and missed it. Life was funny like that.<p>

I got up thinking about what today would bring. I wouldn't be surprised if one or more vampires showed up. Maybe the entire nest. I sat down at the little table, drinking in Finn's smell from the sweatshirt and trying to plan our day out. I hadn't been lying when I'd said I had twelve percent of a plan. It was rattling around my brain like a vague reminder. All I needed to do was flush it—and a few other extraneous details—out, and we would be good to go.

Step one: don't do anything stupid. Step two: try and find a way to separate the vampires out into manageable numbers.

There. Twelve percent of a plan.

I sighed, dropping my head onto my arms. Today was going to be a long day. But first things first, I called Bobby Singer with a request. If he was annoyed that I was calling so early, I couldn't hear it in his voice. He didn't sound fazed by my request, either. So that was good. I thanked him and hung up, one or two steps further in my plan.

Mika was still asleep, and I wasn't willing to leave her alone to go find food or coffee. So I sat at the table, chewing on my lip and making out another handwritten supply list. If this kept up, before too long, the little Camry would be a mobile crime scene on wheels. I shuddered to think about ever returning it to the owner. No, maybe I would just dig out their insurance information from the glove box and mail some money to them. Yeah, that sounded good.

When Mika woke up, I had forty-seven percent of a plan. She cleaned up, and we both felt good enough for a trip to a local diner. Mika didn't said anything during breakfast, which I appreciated. I was sure that my brooding, "hush, I'm trying to think about how to kill some stuff" look helped as well.

By the time breakfast was over, I was a little over halfway through a pretty decent gameplan. Bobby called, and I went to pick up supplies. Then Mika and I got set up, much like we were getting ready for the fight of our lives. Which, in a way, we were.

All I can say is that I blew over three hundred dollars on various motel rooms and supplies. I didn't mind. That was—quite literally—the price of living.

After almost everything was finished, Mika and I spent a lot of time making public appearances throughout town. If the vampires were trying to locate us, they wouldn't have to look too hard. We frequented shops, bought some food, and basically hung around, making ourselves visible. Then we dashed out the back of a Chinese restaurant, and visited our multiple different hotel rooms.

Somehow, beyond all hope, my plan worked. It was a good thing, too. I'd never actually reached a one hundred percent plan completion. No, my brain had run into an insurmountable wall around the seventy four percent mark. But really, in the grand scheme of things, that was okay. Even the best laid plan can smash to a burning death like an asteroid out of space. I wasn't too upset over not figuring out every detail. Finn would have said that was personal growth. I liked to think of it as leaving room for some ass-kicking and finesse.

Either way, it wasn't thirty minutes after Mika and I had settled down in our chosen battlegrounds before the vampires showed up. _Nice of you to join us_, I wanted to say. But I couldn't, because we were hiding and biding our time, and that was kind of the whole point of having four different motel rooms around town.

There were two vampires checking out this particular motel. One really tall one and one who was maybe five seven, tops. I watched as they approached our downstairs decoy motel room. The shorter one tried to look in the curtained window, while the other tested the doorknob carefully. It was locked, like they would expect it to be. But, inside the room, the TV and shower were on, loud enough to hopefully cover the fact that there were not two heartbeats within the room, and I had left a bloody towel on the bed. The scent alone would be tantalizing. Or at least I hoped so. My time in vampiric transition had mostly entailed a multiple-day coma and vomiting fest, so I couldn't be totally sure about the scent thing.

The shorter one, whom I decided was now going to be called Number Three, looked around, like he was checking for anyone watching, and the taller one—Number Four—prepared to kick the door down. I stepped out on the balcony, assuming the proper stance that Finn had drilled into my brain. Then I took aim, feeling highly illegal with my oil filter suppressor screwed onto the end of my gun. But it would kill the noise, and I was in a public area, so I needed that. Bobby Singer had warned me that it was illegal as balls—whatever that meant—but he'd made a few calls and got me hooked up anyway. He was actually kind of a miracle worker, considering we'd barely been in Nebraska for a day.

Number Four never even knew what hit him when I placed four out of five bullets into his brain. I knew they wouldn't kill him, but he went down quickly enough. Number Three spun, pinpointing me up on the balcony with uncanny accuracy. I stared down at him, eyes wide and mouth agape, then hunched over and ran through the open doorway behind me.

Number Three took only seconds to appear in front of our doorway. Mika let out a terrified whimper at the sudden appearance, and I hugged her close, the both of us huddling into the farthest corner away from the door. Number Three blurred again, this time coming to a stop only two feet from us.

He looked confused for a long second—still in the midst of reaching for us—then his head toppled sideways, and his body slumped to the floor, which was conveniently covered in a giant, hideous rug that I'd picked up at the rundown thrift shop just down the street.

I released Mika, and she straightened, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Together, we rolled the unfortunate guy into a vampire-rug taco. After it was done, and I had tied the rug up, Mika went to the doorway and worked on taking down the single strand of razor wire that was strung tightly across the doorway at neck-level. It was covered in a bloody film, which was the only thing that made it clearly visible now, and I ducked under it as I went out.

Number Four still had to be taken care off.

I raced down the steps, looking out for anyone. It was pretty late, and I'd chosen the motel for the weird blocked off sightlines, but still, people were wildly unpredictable, which I supposed made us harder to kill. It also made us damn inconvenient at times, and that was one for my headstone. _Died of old age, too unpredictable and inconvenient to kill,_ it would say.

If I lived long enough to even merit a headstone.

Upon reaching the slow moving body, I jabbed a syringe into Number Four's shoulder. He went still, and I dragged him the extra two feet across the sidewalk to the trunk. The key was already inside the lock, and I twisted it quickly, waiting for the lid of the trunk to raise. It did, with some urging, and I bundled Number Four inside. The plastic sheeting crinkled softly as I shoved any stray arms and legs inside, then I slammed the lid down and prepared to help Mika lug the carpet taco down the stairs.

Yeah, that was a definite downside to renting a room with the balcony walkway, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. If I ever had to randomly plot the best way to stage an execution, I would have to remember to keep balconies out of it.

After another studious gaze around the empty parking lot, Mika and I hustled the heavy mass down the stairs and loaded it into the trunk. The whole thing almost didn't fit, but after a few choice words and some heavy-duty kicking, we squished it in there. Mika threw the wire in on top, and we stripped off our bloody gloves, tossing them in as well. Then I slammed the lid again, feeling like the police should be coming to arrest us any second now. It was almost surreal, what we were doing.

With the two vampire bodies loaded, I dug around in the backseat for the cleaning kit. It looked a lot like a random compilation of supplies one might use to clean a bathroom or a kitchen, complete with big rubber gloves. It was a nice kit, too bad I was using it to clean up a murder scene. Mika went to the decoy room to turn everything off and collect my bloody towel. I went up to the balcony room and started scrubbing away with fresh gloves and a bottle of bleach. The cut on the back of my hand stung a little against the rubber, but I ignored it, knowing the bloody towel had been a good idea. Blood drove vampires to do stupid things.

No one had seen anything, and it didn't look like we had garroted a vampire in the room, so with any luck, no one would even suspect a thing. All in all, we left the rooms cleaner on a microscopic level than they'd been when we'd come. I even dug my slug out of the wooden bench beside our window. Four out of five bullets to the head was good enough for me. I just didn't want someone else to find the last bullet and maybe feel the need to take a closer look at the renter of the room.

After removing, cleaning, and hiding every single conceivably incriminating piece of evidence, Mika and I got the heck out of dodge. Like before, we looked for backroads and abandoned areas of woods. Finding a partially overgrown clearing, I pulled out the shovel from the backseat and started digging.

Twenty minutes in, the phone rang. Thinking it was Bobby, but not exactly having the time to talk, I fished it out of my pocket and tossed it to Mika. She answered without hesitation. "Hello?" A second later, she drew in a sharp breath, and I glanced over, alarmed. "She's a little busy, right now. Can I take a message?" Her face and voice were flat, meaning the person on the other end had said something she didn't like. I scowled, then, knowing exactly who it was.

I paused, dropping the shovel and clambering out of the grave. Rubbing my hands clean on the torn pant legs of my jeans, I held out a hand for the phone. Mika passed it over without another word. "Jemma," I said, leaving any cheerfulness or welcome out of my voice. My distaste for her was clear, and now that I had learned her name from Mika, I could say it as vindictively as I liked. "What can you possibly need from me now?"

"Did you tell her?" Finn's mom demanded.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and took in a long, slow breath. "Did I tell her about her brother? About the reason why you weren't there to save her? Yeah, you could say that."

There was silence on the other end. Then, "You stupid girl. You had no right." She was livid, I could tell. Bite me, lady.

Glancing down at the two vampire corpses, I shook my head. "You can't have your cake and eat it, too, Jemma. The truth was bound to come out anyway. Besides, right now, I have the only right. If you don't like it, then you can come find us. Come take care of your daughter, not to mention the remaining six vampires after her, and then you can tell her or not tell her whatever you like."

I hung up, wondering if I was taking this too far. Eh, probably not. Mika caught her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing on it. Oh gosh, I was already passing on bad habits to her. "Do you think she'll come?" Mika asked quietly.

I hopped down into the hole, starting to dig again as I pondered her question seriously. "I don't know," I answered truthfully. "I really don't know." Mika remained hunkered down at the edge of the hole, and I kept digging. What I hadn't told her was that I didn't think Jemma would leave Finn defenseless—not when she had worked so hard, had made some kind of deal, to wake him up.

I realized, then, that Jemma did love Finn. She would have left him alone had she not. But no, she'd made a deal, maybe even something bad, to wake him up. She'd taken a risk on me, not knowing if I'd be able to follow through on saving her daughter, so that Finn would wake up. And if that wasn't some type of love, then I didn't know what was.

Of course, she _had_ lied to him, saying his father was dead, and she _had_ neglected to tell him that he'd had a sister. And there was no way Mika and Finn didn't share the same father, because the genes for their hair and eye color were identical and most definitely recessive. Not to mention the fact that they could be mistaken for twins had there not been a large age difference. I wasn't an idiot. I understood biology and genetics just as well as the next person. It all lead to one conclusion:

Jemma McAllister was hiding something, and it was big.

I kept running myself into a mental wall trying to figure it out. On the bright side, the hole got dug faster, and my mental wanderings made the laborious hour fly by. Mika pulled me out of the pit—because that was the only word for it—and together we tipped the bodies in. The vampire taco went first, followed by Number Four with the ventilated skull. When we pushed Number Four in, his head rolled away. I caught it and dropped it down into the pit where it bounced against his body and came to a stop, eyes gazing emptily up at us.

Mika and I stared down at it for a second, and then we both vomited. I wasn't surprised. Who knew that violently killing two vampires and burying their corpses didn't agree with the two of us? Oh wait, common sense dictated that fun little fact.

I set fire to the whole thing again, and we filled the pit in shovelful by shovelful. I had blisters on my hands from all the shovel work, but I ignored them. Blisters just didn't seem to compare to the stress and angst of burying bodies in the middle of the woods. We definitely could have been on an episode of _CSI_: _Nebraska_ or whatever. Mika would be the sweet remorseful one, and I would be the cunning, manipulative instigator. We could be stars, right before going to prison for a double homicide.

When it was done, I took the shovel back to the car and put it in the backseat. It was weird, how much less guilty getting into the car felt now that we didn't have any bodies in the trunk. Mika climbed into the passenger seat, staring at her dirt encrusted hands. I handed over a disinfectant wipe, and we cleaned our hands silently, mine stinging like a mother trucker when I swiped disinfectant over the broken blisters.

I got us back on the road and moving towards the state border in no time. It was as if we hadn't just upped our body count to three. No one stopped us, and no one noticed any thing strange about the two of us traveling together. Appearances are deceiving, I guess.

"Nice job placing the wire," I told Mika a long stretch of silence later. In hindsight, the wire trick could have ended very badly. There was no way of knowing which vampires would show up, and the strike zone—as it were—for a clean shot to the neck was terrifyingly infinitesimal. That had been why I'd chosen to shoot the tall vampire in the head. Mika had placed the wire with utter certainty after I'd told her my plan, and I had chosen the most likely vampire who would benefit from our forethought. Still, the room for error was enormous, which was excruciatingly clear now that the fight was over. I didn't feel the need to share the second part of that compliment. Mika was barely holding it together as it was.

"First time facing down vampires?" I asked, pulling my gaze off the road for a second to look at her.

She nodded. "My mom...she's taken a couple down. But she left me at a motel when she did it. Actually she leaves me at a motel for every Hunt. We do the research together, but that's it. Said it's because she wants to keep me safe."

I stared out at the quickly passing lines of the road, thinking about Finn. Through the multiple, brief, closed-off conversations we'd had, I'd gathered that he'd been Hunting for a long time. Too long, maybe. But Mika seemed to have a different version of growing up. Maybe it was because she was a girl or something. I didn't know what Jemma's thought process was, and I didn't want to know. Her version of parenting was messed up, no doubt about it.

Mika titled her head back, looking up at the ceiling as slow tears slid down her cheeks. "She's lied to me my entire life. She said we were the only family we had. Just her and me. I just...I don't know. That's so messed up. How do you even move on from that?"

I shook my head at the thought, knowing not everyone was as lucky as I was when it came to parents. "You know, back when I first faced down vampires, they were coming to kidnap me. My biological dad turned himself into a vampire to save my mom from an illness that was killing her. I think it was something bad. They couldn't treat her without harming me inside her. But anyways, she gave me up for adoption when she saw what he'd done. She died after that. Then he tracked me down, seventeen years later. He tried to turn me so that we could be together."

Mika looked over at me, eyes watery even as she became completely engrossed, and I shrugged. "My adoptive family didn't even tell me I was adopted. I had to find out from a couple of Hunters who were trying to figure out why the vampires wanted me so badly. I grew up thinking life was good and safe, and in the space of a week, I found out that not only was my family a lie and but also that monsters existed."

"I guess," I finished slowly, "what I'm trying to say is...family makes mistakes. And I know it doesn't feel like everything is going to be okay right now, but family is still family. You have to hold on to that." My mouth twisted into a grin, and I threw a random reference out there. "Ohana means family," I said, trying to lighten things up and take her mind off Jemma's deception.

Mika sniffled, scrubbing her tears away. "And family means no one gets left behind or forgotten. Lilo and Stitch."

"Damn right," I said. Then I winced, realizing she was only fourteen. I needed to clean up my mouth, stat. Too much time with the Winchesters had set me back on the clean language scoreboard. I guess that's what comes of spending thirty-six hours straight with the potty mouth brother.

Mika was quiet for a while, playing DJ in the random times when we could find an actual music station. But right after we had passed from Nebraska to Iowa, she punched the power button and killed the radio right in the middle of my soulful rendition of a Bon Jovi song. I almost protested, but stopped upon seeing her face. "How...how are you so calm about this? We're being hunted by vampires, yet you act like this we're just on a random roadtrip." Her eyes searched my face, as if trying to unlock some great secret I had, and it was like looking at Finn all over again.

I was startled for a second, then I tipped my head back and laughed. Mika's eyebrows crept slowly upwards in confusion, and I settled down. "Oh, Mika," I sighed. "You know what I've been thinking about over the last hundred and twenty miles?" I paused, searching for a delicate way to say it. "I was thinking about how to deal with the next set of vampires." _Without getting the both of us killed_, was my wordless addendum. _Or worse, expelled,_ my inner nerd chimed, taking advantage of the perfect set up. There was never a wrong time for Harry Potter.

Her eyes got big, not with surprise though, with guilt. That was puzzling. She looked down at her hands, nervously twisting in her lap. "I was thinking about what it would have been like to have a brother growing up." Her face crumpled. "I should have been helping. I should have been thinking about how to kill them. I'm sorry. It was stupid—to be thinking about something that never even happened when all of this is going on."

"Don't apologize," I told her, flashing back to something Finn had told me a long time ago. "Not for that." I didn't want her contemplating how to best kill vampires. She was fourteen. She didn't need to be debating how best to cut off a vampire's head or hide the body. That would just be...wrong. So dang wrong. "Never for that," I echoed softly, wondering if this was how Finn had felt when he'd said it to me.

I hesitated, rubbing tiredly at my eyes. "It's not your job to think about how to kill the vampires. That's not on you; it's on me. It's why Jemma asked me to come." Semi-blackmailed me to come, really. But I didn't hate Jemma for it. Finn was awake because of her, and I was glad I'd come. Mika was like a sweeter, less cynical and jaded version of Finn. A mini-Finn, still uncorrupted by the world of monsters and nightmares. Well, mostly uncorrupted. Her stay with the vampires had clearly done a number on her head, but I thought she was bouncing back nicely. I'd barely saved her in time, but I'd done it. And...

If anyone deserved to be saved, it was Mika. Sweet, adorable Mika.

She glanced over me hesitantly, maybe unsure if I meant it. I chucked her under the chin with a bent finger. "I got this," I told her with a final nod. Now if only I felt as confident as I sounded.

Mika turned the radio back on. My brain no longer drifted back and forth from hazy logistics to the lyrics of awesome eighties songs. I was laser-focused on the issue at hand. Three vampires down, six more to go.

Despite my bravado with Mika, I had no idea how I was going to outsmart six vampires. This wasn't a movie, where I got to marvel over how the writers came up with such daring twists and turns. This was real life, and right now, it was scaring the hell out of me.

I rolled the window down slightly, letting the wind whip my hair back from my face. Six vampires to go. I could do this. Because...well, because I had no other choice.


	5. Wrecking Ball

Disclaimer: Sam and Dean Winchester are not my characters.

A/N: Whew. It's been a while. I have valid excuses, none of which anyone cares about. Whatever. More shenanigans to come.

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><p>I drove as long as I could before Mika crashed. She still wasn't at a hundred percent, and I couldn't blame her. Being nearly drained of blood meant her body had to slowly bring itself back up to normal, and that took sleep and replenishment of nutrients.<p>

I rented us a motel room, under no illusions that it would even be safe. That, I think, was the most terrifying part of this all. There were vampires after us, and I _knew_ how to fight them. I knew how to kill them, how to keep us safe—for the most part. I knew all that. Yet I was human and therefore held back by all the physical needs of one. The need to eat. The need to sleep.

I knew how to protect myself against vampires, yet it would be so easy for them to snap my neck while I was passed out. And knowing that just made sleeping all the harder. I was exhausted, but I also knew that if I closed my eyes, I might never open them again.

So I slept, but never for very long. Increments of twenty minutes were all I could mentally stomach before the thought of being brutally slaughtered in my sleep was too much to handle. That being said, my night progressed about as well as could be expected.

Twenty minutes of sleep. String razor wire across the front of the room.

Twenty more minutes of sleep. Sit in the chair, machete and gun in hand.

Sleep twenty minutes. Clean my weapons.

Twenty more minutes of sleep. Wake Mika up from a nightmare.

Eventually, the stress of it all ate holes in my peace of mind, and I stopped sleeping altogether.

Around seven, I got up and went out to the car with Mika to survey the meager groceries and other supplies we had stashed in the backseat. Gathering it all up, we went back to our room, and I fixed us some sandwiches while laying out our options. She dug into hers, but I found myself unable to stomach food at the moment. So I set it down and looked at her, letting the seriousness of the matter show on my face.

"I don't think they're going to be as easily tricked the next time they come after us. And I don't think they're going to split up any more," I said quietly. She hesitated, chewing slowly as she worked through my reasoning. I could see her questing for my eventual conclusion, so I asked the big question. "Do you trust me?"

Turns out, she did.

The vampires showed up a couple hours after it got dark. We didn't make it that hard to find us, and when they came, they were wary. They were right to be. Four of their nest had fallen to us, under shrouded circumstances no less. That was enough to make anyone cautious.

Strangely enough, only four vampires had come. The one both Jemma and I had pegged as the leader was missing. I didn't know what to make of that, but at the moment, I didn't really care. My stomach twisted in apprehension as I watched the four survey our chosen location. So many things could go wrong with this plan, yet we really had no other choice.

Then, as one group, they entered.

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing the screen fatigue out of my eyes as I switched to watching a new screen on the monitors. The vampires walked down one hallway, disappearing around the corner, and I moved to a new screen, watching as they walked up the steps. The miracle that was CCTV cameras-I had to get me one of these fancy setups.

Number Five stopped on screen, craning his neck up the stairs as if he heard something. I surely hoped he did. He said something, and all four of them picked up the pace. Across the hall from me, Mika was doing her best to make natural noises. Sighs, a cough here and there, rustles of clothing-it was pretty convincing, and the vampires had no trouble tracking her down. They reached our floor in less than two minutes.

I didn't even hear them come in. They just ghosted through the doorways on camera, letting me know they were here. A few keystrokes later, and the screens all went blank, save for white static. Then I took the hard copy of the security footage, a CD, and snapped it in half. I rolled my neck to the right and then the left, reaching for a button on the keyboard in front of me. Taking one last glance at the snowy camera displays, I pushed the button.

As soon as my finger touched the play button, the chorus of Miley Cyrus' "Wrecking Ball" blasted out of through the speakers distributed throughout the entire floor. It was raucous and screechy and way louder than the local noise ordinance permitted. I swept my machete out of its sheath and slipped out the door, ready to get started.

We were in a massive dance studio. It was quite apropos really. If I were a vampire, mercilessly hunting down a fourteen-year-old girl, then I would definitely deserve to have a pitchy, quasi-love song assault my eardrums right before getting my head chopped off. Not to mention the scent of Tahitian Sunset insidiously seeping into the deepest tissues of my nostrils.

Having effectively negated the scent and sound portion of the vampires' predatory advantages, Mika and I employed one last round of trickery: mirrors.

The studio was full of them. Big mirrors, small mirrors, lines of rolling mirrors, two-way mirrors, and ceiling-to-floor mirrors, which made up the actual walls of the studio. It was glorious. The vampires never knew what hit them.

Mika stood at the far end of the room, tiny and alone, and only half visible through the reflections bounced around the room. When the vampires entered the main dance floor, they came to a stop, catching sight of her immediate. They saw her, but they didn't quite know where she was yet. Mika stared at them, her face full of terror. Her fists were clenched tightly at her side. In a dozen different mirrors, she slowly lifted one hand straight out from her body. Then her fingers opened slightly, and five scarlet droplets fell to the floor one after the other.

Four sets of eyes followed the blood, since the vampires seemed biologically unable to help themselves, and that was when I made my move.

Miley belted out her emotional pain, but my body sang a song of a different kind. "I came in like a wrecking ball," she cried out in regret. I came in like a wrecking ball, too, only I didn't regret it. I reveled in it.

I kicked open the door in a line of two-way mirrors with my foot, lunging forward. The vampires swiveled, unsure of which direction I was coming from, because the vast array of mirrors cast my reflection on every side of them. I brought the machete forward, slicing off one head in a spray of hot blood. Then I was gone, dancing and swirling away in the mirrors before the body even hit the ground.

Mika and I had practiced that move extensively, positioning and re-positioning dozens upon dozens of mirrors into a maze of epic proportions. I knew the rough layout, and we had mapped my path across the floor like a simple choreography piece. I moved in time with the song, letting the synthetic squalling cover the sounds of my retreat.

The remaining three vampires battled their way through the mirrors, unable to find a visible path, yet roughly seeing the end destination. Mika remained still, waiting for them to reach her, and I picked up the pace, unwilling for that to happen. It was a dance, really, and the music gave it a fast, heavy beat of desperation.

Mirrors shattered, thrown aside by pissed off vampires. I hoped it brought bad luck to those of them that would survived this. Number Seven blurred, and I could only track him by the path of violently exploding mirrors swathing towards Mika. I sprinted forward, hopping and dancing in avoidance of mirrors, and when I judged the timing to be right, I swung to my right, throwing up the best forearm clothesline I could manage.

Number Seven hit with terrific force, and my arm went instantly numb. He slid to a stop on his back, making it three feet away with momentum alone. Transferring my machete over to my remaining working hand, I crossed the space with very little fanfare and brought the blade down. It wasn't a clean stroke like with the others, so I tried again, and then a third time.

The head rolled away, and I scrambled up, crashing to my knees once in the pool of blood before taking off like a bat out of hell. I ran for Mika, knowing two dead vampires was as good as we were going to get. There was a rage-filled bellow behind me, probably one of the other vampires realizing what I'd done, and I rocketed past Mika, snagging her arm and pulling her along with me.

We hit the stairwell hard, pounding down the steps faster than was necessarily safe. But we were beyond trying to be safe. We were just trying not to be dead. Well, I was trying not to be dead. The vampires wanted Mika back. Or maybe they just wanted her dead, too. I wasn't really interested in finding out which one it was.

My right arm slowly regained feeling as we ran. So when a blur came out of nowhere and slammed me into the stairwell wall, I hit hard but managed to snag the railing. My weak, three-fingered grip was probably the only thing that kept me from tumbling down the remaining stairs and breaking my neck.

As it was, the vampire was on just as rocky footing as us. I struggled to suck air into my lungs and slashed at him with the machete, which he easily dodged. Except that we were on the stairs and his dodge brought him within easy range of Mika. Without hesitation, she slammed him in the shoulder with dead man's blood.

He went down instantly, and I wanted so badly to kill him. But I could barely breathe, and we had no time, so Mika and I left him in favor of escaping. We burst out of the door and piled into the car. I twisted the key, and we peeled out of there, wild and hurting and elated and terrified. The whole thing had taken less than three minutes as evidenced by Miley still blasting above us, but it honestly felt like it had taken forever. I was gripping the wheel in cold anger, and Mika was shaking from the ordeal. It didn't feel like three minutes. It felt like a lifetime, which was cliche but ultimately true.

"Six down," I told Mika. She didn't look relieved, like I hoped she would be. She just looked sick.

"Three more to go," she whispered, staring at the tiny slice on her palm. She twisted in her seat, pale and scared. "How many more before our luck runs out? Before one of us gets killed?"

I shook my head, feeling the slow drag of fading adrenaline. "Three," I said simply. "And even if one of us dies, it won't be you. Besides, I don't believe in luck."

She gaped at me. "How can you be so casual talking about your own death? Are you insane?"

I flashed her a crooked grin. "Jury is still out on that one." Then I sobered. "I'm in denial. If I don't think about it, then it doesn't affect me."

"You've been fighting and running away from vampires for a week!" she shrieked, borderline hysterical as she threw her hands up. "How can you not?"

"Because I've been thinking about other things," I snapped heatedly. "Like how my boyfriend was in a coma, or how I'm supposed to keep you alive. Or where we're going to stay. Or how we're going to survive the next wave of vamps. Or how fucking messed up Jemma is for dumping this on me."

Mika recoiled at the last one, like I'd just slapped her. Then tears welled up in her eyes. I pinched the bridge of my nose then punched the steering wheel repeatedly. I stopped when the coldness had faded from my chest. "I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I didn't mean it that way. I'm just tired, so I have no filter." Mika stared out the window silently, but her hand inched over towards me. I reached out and squeezed it. It was hard to remember she was just a kid.

"We'll be okay," I told her, lying. I was exhausted, and I couldn't eat. Mika was doing remarkably well for a girl who had been taken prisoner and been systematically fed on by monsters. Still, screaming night terrors held promise that a real breakdown wasn't too far around the bend. We weren't in great shape. So yes, I was might have been totally lying when I said that we'd be fine. But I think it needed to be said before both of us fell apart.

Neither of us spoke as I drove. We didn't go far. I was too tired, and Mika was too young to drive. We couldn't afford to get pulled over by the cops, so when I couldn't keep myself going anymore, we found the nicest hotel in the city, and rented a room. The desk attendant looked a little confused when we asked for something on the busiest floor, but she fixed us up anyway. Apparently we got our money's worth, because we could barely get past throngs of loud, chattering tourists to get to our room.

I hoped that the sheer amount of foot traffic would discourage any attempts to break into our room, and as I sat on the edge of the bed, Mika was stringing razor wire in front of the small, obligatory hotel room window.

Once the wire was up, she went to shower. I kept watch, laying on my stomach on the bed. I wanted to call Finn, wanted to tell him how my day went, wanted to ask him how his had been. But at the same time, I didn't even know how to go about it. I felt soiled, dirty. My heart felt black, just like it did whenever I killed something, and I didn't want to talk to Finn like that. Or maybe I did. Talking to Finn would make things better. Or maybe I was just crazy and pinning exaggerated emotional baggage on a simple phone call that may or may not even happen.

Kicking my legs up behind me, I stared down at my phone as if daring it to ring yet totally unsure whether I really wanted to talk to Finn or anyone else.

Mika walked out of the bathroom, toweling her hair off. "Whatcha doing?" she asked slowly and warily. My gaze remained locked on the phone. _To Finn or not to Finn, that is the question_, I thought at it contemplatively. The screen remained dark. Mika sighed. "Will you just call him already?"

"Can't," I said abruptly. "I have to focus on other stuff. Like keeping us alive."

She walked out of my peripheral, and started changing into what I guessed were the clothes we'd picked up for her. "Ri, you're staring at your phone. You were staring at it before I went to take a shower, and you're still staring at it now that I'm out. That's not focusing on vampires. That's obsessing over Finn. Just call him."

I broke eye contact with the infernal device and rolled onto my back. "I can't. I don't even know what I'd say." And I shouldn't need relationship advice from the fourteen-year-old sister of the guy I liked. That was just sad. Oh, how far the mighty have fallen.

Mika looked incredulous. "Are you kidding me? You once talked about Finn for five hours straight. I would know, 'cause I was locked in the car with you and forced to listen. You are constantly, 'Finn this' or 'Finn that.' Can you really not think of anything to say to him?"

I stared up at the ceiling, mind going blank. Finn was my boyfriend now, and I couldn't even figure out if I wanted to talk to him at this point. "Nope," I confirmed with a pop of my lips.

Mika made a disgusted noise, shaking her head. "You're hopeless. Fine, do what you want." She finished dressing and toweling her hair dry, heading back into the bathroom.

"I always do," I called loudly at her retreating form. Then I settled back down on the bed, screwing up my face. I wanted to hear Finn's voice, but I honestly didn't know what to say. The fact that he hadn't called again meant that he probably felt the same way or that his Nazi of a mother wouldn't let him for fear I would somehow corrupt her one remaining child.

After Mika came out of the bathroom, she passed out on the bed. I was still too wired to sleep though, so I just sat there on the other half of the bed. I was still in my blood-soaked jeans. They were black, so no one could really tell, but I knew, and that was all that mattered.

My stomach ached sharply, reminding me that it had been over a day since I last ate. I didn't care. I felt to ill-at-heart to really eat. Instead, I pulled my knees up and rested my chin on them.

Three more vampires to go.

I had no idea where I was going to muster the brainpower, much less the energy, to kill three more vampires. Staring at the wall for a couple of hours did nothing to move my plans along. I was too exhausted to think rationally or logically or whatever kind of mindset it took to get shit done.

My phone rang, and I answered it without looking who was calling. "This is Riley," I announced drolly. "Speak now while I'm still alive."

There was silence on the other end. Then, "Bobby called. Said you were in our area, taking on some vampires. Wanted us to make sure you're still alive and kicking." Winchester Short. Just the sound of his voice calmed me down a little. But then I remembered that I was kind of mad at him for the whole Finn thing.

"I'm not talking to you," I informed him dutifully.

"Grow up," he scoffed, not kindly. I hung up the phone, feeling like I did that a lot these days. But hey, what worked...worked.

My phone rang again, not two seconds later. I glanced at the screen. It was Sam calling. Or maybe just Dean using Sam's phone. At this point, that was too confusing to think about, so I just elected to accept it was Sam calling. "Winchester Tall," I greeted, suddenly pleased at the prospect of talking to someone that wasn't Dean or Mika or Finn or Jemma.

"Riley," Sam replied solemnly. His voice calmed me down, too. It made me feel like maybe things weren't all that bad.

Except they were.

"I'm being hunted by a nest of psychotic vampires," I told him, trying to keep the words from coming out of my mouth. I didn't want to tell him that, didn't want to tell him how bad I was doing, but my hand came up too late to stop the words from spilling out. Yeesh, the lag time on both my mental and physical filters was killing me.

"Where are you?" he asked casually.

I looked around. "I'm in a hotel room. They gave us free shampoo and everything." I smiled. I liked the little bottles the shampoo and conditioner came in. Never mind that Mika had mostly used them up in one shower session.

Another pause. Uh-oh. Sam was going to hit me with the big gun. I tried to put up mental shields, but I was already too late. "Are you okay?" Bam. There it was. The brotherly concern. I was a sucker for brotherly concern.

Yes, I am okay.

Yes, I am fine.

I'm great. Thanks for asking.

Those were all appropriate responses.

"I'm covered in blood," I said, quite seriously. "I killed six vampires." Gosh dang it, I was out of control. Control. As if I'd ever been in control since this whole thing started. A little giggle slipped out of my mouth at that thought.

"Tell me where you are." He sounded urgent, this time. That didn't seem right to me, but I couldn't think of why. Oh. He wanted to come rescue me. Nope. Not this time. I was doing this one solo. I didn't need to be rescued. Not by them, not again.

"I shan't," I told him glibly.

"What's wrong with you?" He didn't sound accusatory, just curious.

I felt like I should yawn, because I was so tired, yet at the same time, my brain was too active. I wasn't sleepy. Exhausted, yes. Sleepy, no. "'Member the time when I was on drugs?" I asked congenially, fielding a yawn after all. "This is a lot like that."

"What?" he asked. Then I hung up, not knowing what else to do. It took me a second before I remembered that I was supposed to say goodbye first.

"Goodbye," I said into the phone.

A while later, Mika woke up. I tried to tell her that we needed to get ready to go, but then I tipped over onto my side, and my brain shorted out. Sleep, so inconvenient.

Mika, of course, decided to let me sleep. It was six o'clock in the morning when I woke up, which meant that I had snoozed for at least a couple of hours. The turd, to her credit, was camped out on the chair, alert and holding our last syringe of dead man's blood. Figuring she'd be okay for ten more minutes, I slumped into the bathroom and took a shower.

The shower was nice. The bruises on my ribs and arm were not. They were grotesque, and I was resolved to wear a hoodie cover up the solid sheath of purple and puke colored hues on my forearm. I came out of the bathroom in a sports bra and sweats, because that's what kind of day it was. Mika gagged when she saw my arm and then immediately tried to poke it. I scowled at her and scrounged up a shirt and hoodie.

We got back on the road around seven, having stopped to get breakfast. I ordered and ate, like, nine pieces of bacon, not even sweating the calories. It was also that kind of day.

Not twenty minutes into the drive, my phone rang. I made sure to check who it was, now that I was back in my right mind. It was Finn. I glanced between it and the road before handing it off to Mika. "Finn," I warned her, not wanting her to be blindsided like last time.

"Hello?" she asked casually, sounding as if she had no idea who could even be on the other end. I loved her.

Finn said something, soft and low in her ear. I couldn't hear what he said, but just the sound of his voice was enough to make my heart beat faster. "This is Mika," she said after a minute, which was probably in response to Finn demanding to know who was answering my phone. "Riley can't talk right now. She's driving." I wanted to hug her.

I didn't want to talk to Finn right now. To anyone, really. "We're on the freeway, so we can't pull over," Mika rationalized when he said something else. Finn yelled something across the phone. "That's very rude," she said affably and hung up. So we had that in common, then. We stared at each other for a beat, and then we burst out laughing. I felt better, not so dark and moody, and Mika turned on the radio.

I didn't sing along, because there were still vampires to kill, but I definitely didn't feel like crying or writing some kind of death poetry. Actually, I couldn't have written poetry if I tried—regardless of my emotional state.

"Your phone kept going off while you slept, by the way," Mika said, a few minutes later. "Somebody named Sam." She looked over, clearly wanting an explanation. I shrugged. "Can you at least tell me where we're going?" she begged.

"Converse," I told her, having picked the name off a sign on the freeway. She looked down at my shoes, which were stained a hideous rust brown. That's what happens when teal Converse get doused with blood, apparently. "Converse, Indiana," I clarified.

She looked at me, a tiny smile growing on her face. I didn't know why, because it didn't seem that funny, but I guess it was to her. "This is where it ends," she said in a slightly dreamy voice.

I peeked at her from my peripheral, weirded out. "Sure," I said, long and drawn out. Then I stared out the windshield, because only moments before, I had been contemplating Converse as our last stop. Our final stand, as it were. I was too tired to keep running, and there were only three vampires left. Mika confirming it, just made things more set in stone.

Converse was going to be where things ended. One way or another.


	6. Death On Maple Street

Disclaimer: Sam and Dean Winchester are not my characters.

A/N: If there are any typos, I apologize. I will find them and fix them later.

* * *

><p>Converse, Indiana. Population 1,246.<p>

I pursed my lips at the cheery, little welcome sign. "Welcome To Converse," it proclaimed in bold letters. "Enjoy Your Stay!" Yeah. Not likely. Sorry, Converse.

_Three vamps left_, I mused silently as I accelerated down the main street. Mika and I stopped at the hardware store. I bought a six pack of Coke, and she insisted on getting a dark blue bandana and a bottle of water. Then we went straight to the most abandoned building we could find. It was a tiny warehouse on Maple Street. Calling it a warehouse might have been stretching it. It was a tiny building with a loading dock on one side and big doors on the other. But it was empty, for now anyways, and that's what mattered.

There was no music, no theatrics, this time. Just Mika and I, armed with a machete and the last syringe of dead man's blood. The main vampire—Head Honcho—as I thought of him, hadn't shown up last time when his cronies invaded the dance studio. I was betting that he wouldn't show up here, either.

Which meant this whole thing was going to be two-on-two. Well, two-on-one-and-a-half. Regardless, I was kind of excited. The odds were finally even, or at least not steeply canted against me anymore. I could kill two vampires. Probably.

Most likely.

Maybe.

There was a metallic clatter off to our left, letting me know which direction the vamps were coming in from. Mika and I had either finished off or dumped out the cans of Coke earlier and tied the aluminum cans on a string. There were only two ways into the warehouse, and strings hanging with cans guarded both.

The vampires entering from the east had no doubt jostled the string attached to the cans. Except there had been only one clatter, which meant there was either one vampire coming in, or the other vamp had enough sense not to shake the string. Or they were coming in from two directions. Or one was just so stealthy he could be sneaking up on us right now. The possibilities spit through my head like machine gun fire, and it was a hard task to drown them all out.

I pulled Mika close, knowing that the vampires would have to come out in the open if they wanted a shot at either of us. This plan, so unlike our previous subterfuge, was incredibly simple. Vamps would come at us, and we would kill them. I was hoping it was just crazy enough to work.

And it did. Kind of.

A vampire appeared to our side, yanking Mika out of my arms before I had a chance to react. That was okay, though. I was relatively certain—while not totally sure about the mechanics of vampire speed—that the vamp couldn't keep up his speeding blur act when toting around another person.

Turns out, I was correct.

The vampire was relatively stationary as he struggled to hold a kicking, writhing, hitting Mika, and I had to wonder if he'd thought this through. Regardless of his planning ability, I launched myself at him with a mental scream of rage. Mental only because we were in a residential area, and I didn't want anyone to call the cops. All three of us went down in a heap, and I briefly considered trying out for professional football. My tackle was as good as any linebacker.

The vampire flung Mika away with a single thrust of his arm, sending her rolling and tumbling to the side. Then he went for my neck. I barely managed to get my forearm in the way before he bit down. Then, despite trying to keep things quiet, I let out a strangled "son of a banana" as hot, burning pain tore through my arm. It felt like the guy's mouth was a meat grinder, like I could literally feel his spiked teeth grating against the bones of my arm.

My mind went blank for a second at the shock and pain of it all, then I kicked it into gear. I was still slightly on top of him, so it didn't take very much effort to wiggle and jerk my knee around enough to hit something incredibly delicate. As it turns out, even as vampires, guys still feel the age-long need to protect their junk.

My knee hit ground-zero, and the vampire spasmed, releasing my arm from his mouth. His arms came up, one hand settling on the back of my head, and the other reaching for my jaw. I had no doubt that he would snap my neck if his second hand got a good grip. So I did the last thing he'd expect. I dived bombed him with my head, and I bit him.

I wasn't going to go all _Walking Dead_ on him and tear his throat out with my teeth, but I did manage an impressive pitbull impersonation in the area between his throat and shoulder. He fisted a handful of my hair, trying to yank my head away, but I hung on despite feeling like my hair was being torn out of my head. Mika ran over, slamming a syringe into one of his flailing legs, and then it was over.

He twitched and jerked for a second before going still. I sat up, spitting blood and stuff I didn't want to think about out of my mouth. Swiping a hand over my lower face, I tried to clean the blood off, but I think I made it worse.

"There was only one? And you bit him?" Mika's voice was thin and reedy—terrified.

A hysterical laugh broke free of my chest, and I felt crazed and terrified myself. "Last thing a vampire would expect, right?"

Mika settled back on her haunches, staring at me. Okay, maybe I needed to reign in the "crazy lady" bit. Instead of screaming or running away from me, though, she fished in her pocket, pulling out the blue bandana she'd made me buy her. Then she moved forward slowly, the way one approaches a wild animal, and motioned for my arm. I mutely held it out, and she tied the bandana around the bleeding bite wound.

After that came the water bottle, which she hadn't drunk from. She extended it slowly, like I was still feral and could attack at any second, and I took it, washing my mouth out and cleaning my face. Feeling a bit more human, I stood on shaky legs and beheaded Number Six. Coincidentally, he was the one who had slammed me into a stairwell wall, so he was responsible for making both my arms look nasty. Jerk. Well, a dead jerk now.

Mika took the keys and backed the car into the warehouse. I was in no state to go outside and possibly be seen by people. The heavy plastic sheeting in our trunk made me feel like some kind of sicko serial killer, but we wrapped Number Six without hesitation. I quickly debated leaving the body here versus taking it with us.

In the end, Mika and I carried the duct tape, plastic sheeting mummy to an industrial freezer in the back and set him inside. Then I brought out a spray bottle and liberally doused the entire area with a bleach and water mixture. I'd seen enough CSI to know that bleach destroyed evidence, and we would be long gone before anyone even thought to question two young girls about a grisly beheading.

While I bleached everything, literally everything, Mika retrieved our pop can burglar alarms and tossed them into the back seat. I started the car. Flashing one last glance at the now padlocked freezer door, I pulled out of the warehouse and Mika rolled the big door down to the floor again before climbing in. I almost felt bad for the small town sheriff, who would mostly likely be way out of his or her league. I rolled out onto the street and started to drive, pondering how scary life would be for a cop that actually knew the truth about the things out there.

A flicker in the rearview mirror drew me out of my thoughts and had me studying the shrinking shape of the warehouse. Before, the streets had been empty. Now, there was a man's silhouette against the building. I stopped the car, letting the red brake lights flare up in the growing dusk. The man moved his hands apart then brought them together a couple times.

Clapping. He was slow clapping. For us. For me. Mika looked up, followed my gaze, and saw nothing. He was already gone. "What is it? Did you forget something?" she asked, not suddenly creeped out and cold like I was now.

"No. Nothing," I said quietly, starting to drive again. She didn't need to know. At least one of us should get some sleep tonight.

Mika remained silent as we drove. I brought us to a little Bed-and-Breakfast on the other side of the town. She got out and made the necessary business transaction, and I snuck into through the back window when she came out and told me the location of the room.

I heaved my duffle inside the window, scrambled over the window ledge, and landed on a heap on the floor. That's what you get with two bum arms. Without a word to Mika's worried glances, I went into the bathroom and didn't come out again until every speck of blood, dirt, and vampire gunk was gone from my skin. I even brushed my teeth. Three times.

Mika was sitting on the bed when I came out, and she looked concerned when I started prepping my machete and gun. "We're not staying?" she asked, eyes wide.

I kept my head down, shoving the mag into the gun and pulling back the slide. It clicked back into place, and I flicked the safety on. Then I looked at Mika. "I'm going out to meet the head honcho."

Fear flickered across her face. "He's not...he'll..." she whispered, like that was all she could muster. I didn't know what he'd done to her, but she was terrified of him. God, I hated vampires so much right now.

She looked like she was about to start crying, so I put the gun on the table and settled my hands on her shoulders. "I'll be okay," I said softly. "He's treating this like a game. It wouldn't be fun to kill me now. Not until he has you again. Besides, it'll be irresistible for him to come see what I have to say." I flashed her a pouty face and my most provocative one shoulder shrug. "Irresistable," I purred. She couldn't help but smile a little, and I stopped being a weirdo once my mission was accomplished.

I led her to the bathroom. It had sturdy three walls and a solid door. "Look, I'll just shut you in here, and then I'll push the dresser in front of the door, okay? That way you'll have lots of time to prepare if anyone but me tries to get in." She still didn't look convinced, so I grabbed her hand and settled the gun into it. "This is a Glock. All you have to do is click the safety off—" I demonstrated "—and pull the trigger. The recoil isn't too bad, so all you need to focus on is aiming for the head. Head area. Anywhere in that vicinity. Shoot 'em and then run."

Mika was on the verge of hyperventilating, so I hurried to console her. "Look, Head Honcho will be busy with me, and I highly doubt the other vamp will be far from his boss. He probably won't even come for you." I wasn't willing to flat out lie and say that he wouldn't come at all. I didn't know that, but I had a pretty good idea that she would be safe. Otherwise, I wouldn't be going to meet the head of a sadistic, homicidal vampire clan.

I paused thoughtfully before handing her my phone. "Give me two hours. If I'm not back by then, call Sam. His number is in the phone. Tell him where you are, and he'll come get you. He and his brother are really good Hunters. They'll keep you safe."

I almost thought she was going to cry and cling to me, but instead, she gave me this weird out-of-it look. "You'll be back," she said kind of strangely.

"You better believe it," I said with a snort. Then I pulled her into a hug. "Love you," I murmured, realizing it was true even though I'd only known her for a week or so.

She squeezed me tightly, like she didn't want to let go. Eventually, I had to pry her off and poke her towards the bathroom. She took my gun and my battered copy of Harry Potter that had somehow made it into my suitcase without my knowledge. I suspected Trixie. Either way, it was so like a McAllister to take a gun and a novel into the bathroom together that I had to hold back laughter.

Of course, then I remembered that Head Honcho and I were slated for a little one-on-one face time, and that took my laughter right away. Life sometimes punches you in the gut like that. It's great. For life. Not so much for your gut.

Once out at my car, I sliced my palm of my left hand with the tip of my machete, just a little cut, and let blood drip to pool in my hand. People in the movies did it all the time with no thought. But it hurt like crap, and it was hard to make myself bleed voluntarily. I did it anyways, knowing the necessity of the act.

Deciding a lake was a good place for a late night, or an early morning, rendezvous, I navigated towards the biggest body of water around, dripping blood out onto the road the entire way there, starting at one of the many stoplights in the middle of town. Once I'd left what I assumed to be a suitable blood trail, I pulled off the road at the lake.

Then I set my shoulders and started walking. Small, rippling waves eased forward against the shoreline of the lake, and cold mist settled over me like a chilling blanket. It matched what was going on inside me.

I walked along the beach quietly, savoring the cool night air as I headed towards the closest structure. It was a dock, placed out near the widest part of the shore. I had no doubt boaters came here all the time, not now, of course. The waterline was much too low, but I knew as soon as the snow melted, the lake would fill up. In the meantime, I dripped blood into the exposed sand.

As I neared the dock, I slapping a bloody smear onto the closest concrete pillar and walked under the wooden structure. "Find me now," I growled coldly, staring out over the water. Then I sat, elbows on knees, watching the moon paint the water in cold, white light as mist drifted aimlessly over the it.

And, just like I'd known he would, he found me. It was a lot like when my biological father had shown up. I felt like someone had just punched me in the gut. Yet I wasn't the same girl as I had been back then. I wasn't terrified, wasn't overcome with emotion. Yes, I was scared, but I didn't let it control me. There was too much at stake for that.

Head Honcho sat down beside me, mirroring my pose. He was kind of handsome, in the way a jungle cat might be right before it decides to make you dinner. Dark hair framed a strong jaw. Thin lips curved into a genuine smile. His eyes were dark and just a little too piercing to be comfortable to look at. But he looked normal, human even.

Maybe that's what made this so hard. It was easy to kill something rabid, something trying to kill you in the first place. But he was looking and acting human at this point, and it was hard to get past. "You have something of mine, I do believe," the vampire said with a pleasant smile. "But I have quite enjoyed the chase."

I shook my head, letting my hand bleed into the sand. "You can't have her back. You can't have anyone anymore." He lost his smile, going still beside me.

"I've been a vampire for longer than you've been alive. What makes you think you can come out of nowhere and stop me? You're a nobody. Just some silly little Hunter with an ax to grind." He knew what Hunters were, which meant I wasn't the first, then. That was disturbing. He smiled widely, maybe thinking it was funny that I was creeped out. "I could snap your neck right now. It'd be so fast, you wouldn't even see it coming."

I blinked at him. "You won't," I informed him. "You've been alive too long to make it quick. You like to play. You like the power it gives you." I looked over at him, chewing on my lip, even as my right hand tightened on the machete strapped to my back under my shirt.

"You're a strange one," he admitted. "I've never seen anything quite like you. You came into my house, stole my possessions, and set fire to my living room. Then you fled. It was as if you wanted us to chase you." He laughed, like this was simply the best treat ever. "When I sent my family after you, you killed them in the most wildly imaginative of ways."

I shrugged, trying to hide how sick he made me feel. "What can I say? I like to shake things up."

He laughed again, almost childlike in his mirth. "I honestly don't know what to expect from you. That's what made this all so pleasurable. You're full of surprises. I'll be very sad to kill you. No one's given me as much fun as you have. It's admirable, really." He sobered, turning thoughtful as he ran a hand through his hair. "I could turn you. We could be together for eternity, then. Think of all the fun we could have." His voice lilted playfully on the word "together," and I instantly sought clarification.

"Together," I echoed, questing for his intention lest he be saying what I thought he was saying.

"Together," he repeated sensuously, "in every sense of the word." Oh. It was like that now, was it?

"I'd kill you," I said flatly. "You could turn me, but the moment you let your guard down, I would slaughter you. Then I would use my speed and my strength, and I would kill every single vampire I could find. You would be infamous—the poor shmuck that unleashed a monster so powerful he couldn't control it."

He looked genuinely surprised at my rather violent declaration."Yes," he said thoughtfully. "I rather think you would." At least he didn't doubt my sincerity. He sighed. "Well, at the chase has been fun. Shall we end it?"

I shrugged, wondering how messed up a guy had to be to consider sending his entire family—if that's what they were—to die in order to have a little fun. _Not entire_, I corrected mentally. _Number Eight is still out there somewhere_. "Tomorrow," I said abruptly. "There's an abandoned barn out by Wilkinson Road. I'll be there. You'll be there. Mika will not. One way or another, this will end."

He laughed. "So willing to die for a girl you barely know." Then he looked a little bit crafty, like he knew something I didn't. "Why is that?"

I grinned, baring my teeth in a disturbing manner. "She's family, more or less. But I would do it anyway, even if she wasn't. Because all it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing." It shocked him. It shocked him into silence for a good minute.

"Edmund Burke," he said finally, recognizing my quote. Then he snorted, standing up before sweeping into a deep, elegant bow. "So you're a like a lioness, protecting her cub. Well, I wish you the best of luck, lioness."

Edmund Burke. He was an Irish philosopher and political theorist. Finn quoted him from time to time, don't ask me why. I quoted movies, he quoted philosophers. To each his own, I guess. It was ironic that I was quoting a philosopher now, of all times.

Head Honcho walked a few steps, and I was still annoyed at being called a lioness, so I couldn't resist a parting shot. "Oh, by the way, Number Six is currently sitting headless in the warehouse on Maple. He sends his regards," I called, just to piss him off. "Oh wait, he's dead and in the freezer. Never mind." If it had any effect on him, I couldn't tell.

Head Honcho went still for a moment, then he glanced over his shoulder. "Tell me, has the girl seen the future yet? Has her true parentage made itself known?" Then he was gone, leaving me stunned, skin crawling. Yeah, his parting shot was way better than mine.

I thought about it for a second before my brain settled on the last thing Head Honcho had said. Mika's parentage. I knew Jemma was lying about Mika and Finn's father, but why would that matter? What could be so important to lie about? And seeing the future? What the heck was that about?

As I sat in the sand, I thought about the oddities Mika had shown me. One, she had known exactly how high to string the razor wire the first time we'd used it. The chance for error had been insane, but she hadn't hesitated. Two, she'd known we were coming to Converse, had known this was where I was making my last stand. She'd known before I'd even fully made the decision myself. And three, she'd bought a bandana and water, used neither, and I'd ended up needing both. That couldn't just be coincidence, could it?

Climbing to my feet slowly, I shook away the cold seeping into my muscles and brushed the sand off my jeans. It was possible that Head Honcho was just waiting to follow me back to Mika. It was possible, but I didn't think it likely. This was a game to him. He would be there, tomorrow. I was sure of it.

The drive home was uneventful. I drove for maybe twenty minutes before deciding that Converse was small enough that he probably didn't need to tail me to find out where I'd gone. Plus, I was freaking tired. When I got the Bed-and-Breakfast, I went straight to our room.

Mika was still fine. I struggled to move the dresser away from the door, but with a couple of watered down swear words—weren't even swear words really—I got it done. Mika tackled me in a hug, and I liberated my gun from her before she shot one of us. Then we went to bed, having already vampire-locked the room earlier.

I crawled into the big, single bed, suppressing a shudder as Mika's warmth flooded over me. It could have been weird, sharing a bed, but honestly, neither Mika and I could sleep by ourselves anymore. I guess that's what being forced into a violent killing spree gets you. Mika couldn't sleep through the night without screaming nightmares, and I barely slept at all. So we had done away with independence the last couple of nights and started sharing a bed. It was just easier that way—consciously and subconsciously knowing we weren't alone in this mess.

"How was your meeting?" Mika murmured quietly.

I stared up at the ceiling, arms tucked behind my head. "I think I was just propositioned by the head honcho of the nest," I said after a while. "He wanted me to be his eternal mistress, and in return, he was going to let you live."

"What'd you say?" Mika was sleepy, not even fazed. I loved that she trusted me so implicitly that she didn't even sound worried about whether I might take the deal or not.

I snorted. "I told him where he could find the body of Number Six." Mika gave a tiny huff of appreciation. I chewed on the inside of my cheek. "So you're pretty special, aren't you?" I ventured slowly.

Beside me, she went still. "Yeah, kind of." Her sleepiness was gone, and that was her only response. No pomp, no explanations. Just an affirmative.

"How special?" I kept my tone gently curious. I wasn't judging or calculating or scared. I just wanted to know.

"I feel stuff sometimes. Like stuff that's going to happen. I just know things."

"You can see the future?" I asked, eyes wide, mind reeling. If she said yes, the age of the superhero was nigh.

"Sometimes. Just variations of what could happen, really. It's more of a feeling, and I sometimes know how to change things to get a different outcome. But I can't control it yet. It just happens."

"Oh," I said. Then a thought popped into my head. "Can you tell me if we're going to be attacked this morning?" A quick glance at the clock confirmed my timeline. It was four o'clock in the morning. Gross. I yawned loudly, unable to help myself. "Because the constant surprises are totally killing my REM sleep cycles."

Mika was silent for a long time. "I tell you that I'm a freak, and you just want to know if we're going to be safe tonight?" Her voice was quiet, and I sensed this was a very dangerous topic. One best navigated when I was not so very unfiltered by exhaustion.

"Well," I said through another yawn. "Safety first, right?"

"We'll be fine," she said shortly.

"Awesome," I said with a groan as I rolled onto my side and promptly fell asleep.


	7. Fever

Disclaimer: Winchesters and Bobby Singer are not mine.

A/N: Anna Sela, I said I would try to tone down the introspection. Sorry. The words came exploding out of my brain, and it didn't happen. Have a mental conciliatory cupcake instead. :l

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><p>There was pounding on the door. I dragged my eyelids open with extreme effort and a relatively lethal rage. I knew it wasn't the vampires at the door. Mika had said we would be fine, and I trusted her. The pounding came again. "Riley!" boomed a deep voice. I knew that voice. What I didn't know was why he—well, probably, they—were here.<p>

"What?" I grumped back, feeling light headed and freezing cold.

"Open the door."

I looked down at the floor, realizing it was a long way to get from the bed to the door. "No," I called back, curling up and making myself a blanket cocoon. Somebody swore not so quietly, and there was scraping at the lock. Part of me wondered if this was all just a bizarre dream. I had almost convinced myself that it was and fallen back asleep when the door swung open, revealing Winchester Short with Winchester Tall hoovering behind his shoulder. "Are you hurt?" Dean called gruffly, concern thick in his voice.

I let out a giant yawn, unable to help myself. The clock said it was six-thirty, which meant I had gotten a little over two hours of sleep. Yay. That put my grand total up to nine or so hours. For this week.

Since they were apparently real, I stopped delaying the inevitable. "Come'n in," I mumbled, my voice rough with sleep. The Winchesters glanced speculatively at the random strands of razor wire criss-crossing the entry way and also the far side of the room near the window. It looked just as good as any high-tech laser grid found in most spy or heist movies out there. What could I say? Being terrified highly motivates a girl to up her quality of work.

"Why'rya here?" I asked, still trying to wrap my brain around that particular conundrum.

"Mika called," Sam said simply. Gosh darn it. That little turd. I had things handled. Or I would, once my brain started functioning again and kicked out the last remnants of my most recent plan.

"Don't needjer help," I slurred darkly, feeling strangely malevolent towards them.

"Yeah," Dean said with a snort as he started to pick his way through the wire maze. "We can see that."

"Butthole," I wanted to snap at him, but I think it only came out as a sleepy murmur.

Dean stilled from where he was taking down a strand of wire. "Riley, are you okay?" He said it all slow-like, and green spotlights pinned me in place.

"Oh yeah," I said, smothering the urge to let out a hysterical little giggle. "Everthing's shiny, Cap'n." But everything was not shiny, I could tell that right now. I just didn't know why.

_But_, I did not need their help. With that resolution firmly in mind, I pushed myself upright, ignoring the faint, heated throbbing in my left arm. Frigging bitey vampires.

"I don't need your help," I repeated, my voice stronger this time. Any vestiges of sleep slipped away in light of my annoyance.

"Never said you did," Dean snarked. But the fact that they were pushing into my room and taking down all the razor wire said they thought otherwise. It was infuriating.

I scrambled out of bed, feeling slightly dizzy until my head finally caught up to my body. "Get out," I said flatly. Sam and Dean paused, looking confused, as if it was simply boggling that I might not want their help.

Behind me, Mika stirred. "What's going on?" she murmured sleepily, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She yelped when she saw Sam and Dean, automatically pulling the covers up to her chest in a flimsy shield. "Riley?" God, the terror—mixed with absolute trust—in her voice just killed me.

"It's nothing," I reassured her. Then, still annoyed at her betrayal, I added, "The Winchesters. You called them. They came." Mika probably cringed at that. I would have liked to have seen it, but I was keeping my eyes and focus on the brothers who were frozen in the act of dismantling my vampire-repelling system. "Go back to sleep, Mika. They were just leaving." I infused as much steel into my voice as I could when I said it. My statement sounded non-negotiable, and I hoped I looked feisty enough to back it up.

It wasn't that hard. One of my arms sported a wide bandage wrap and the other a coat of bruises. I had a bruise across one cheekbone, which—if anything—just made me look mean. My jeans were stained with rust-colored blood, a testament to how little I cared anymore about my wardrobe. My shirt was mostly clean, but even then, it was black and slimming.

I looked like a bad-ass. I knew I did, because this was how I'd gone to meet Head Honcho, and I'd wanted to make an impression last night. Right now, the look might have been slightly ruined by my bed-head and bags under the eyes, but a girl can only do so much.

I think Sam and Dean realized there was no winning with me, because they backed out of the room, leaving the razor wire piled neatly along the wall. I put my gun on the nightstand for Mika, grabbing a jacket off the back of the chair and slinging it over my shoulders, still kind of cold. Then I followed the Winchesters out, locking the door behind me. I had the urge to yawn, but fought it down, knowing that acting as exhausted as I looked would only hurt my case that I had everything under control.

"Thanks for coming, but I think you should go. I've got this handled," I said as soon as we got into the hallway, forcing the words out with as much raw civility as I could muster. Sam looked like he wanted to say something, but his brother beat him to the punch.

Dean stuck his neck out a little and blinked, like he couldn't believe I'd just said that. His next words confirmed it. "Excuse me? Sam and I drove eight hours just to get here." He waved a finger between himself and Sam, as if that would somehow help make his point.

My barely eked civility went flying out the window. "I never asked you to come," I snapped, staring at him and not backing down. "I'm doing fine."

Dean looked slightly disgusted. "You told Sam you were covered in blood, and then you laughed, Riley. You _laughed_. That is not 'fine.' Then the kid calls and says she thinks you're going to die."

I froze, hearing Mika's revelation for the first time. She thought I was going to die? I felt sick, not knowing if this was her future thingy at work or just the—albeit semi-well founded—fears of a fourteen-year-old girl. Another yawn reared its head, but I quashed it ruthlessly. "Well, I'm not dead," I hissed, covering up my fear with annoyance.

Sam shifted in place, moving from one foot to the other and holding out his hands in a placating gesture. "Look, Riley, we just want to know what's going on. Bobby hasn't found any reports of vampires in this state. Why are they after you? How many are there?" He was seriously laying it thick with the brotherly concern thing. Maybe this was the Winchester version of good cop-bad cop.

My brain felt sluggish as I sought an appropriate response. Hell, I would settle for any response right now. But the lack of sleep was dragging me down slowly but surely, and I was finding it harder and harder to come up with stuff. I rubbed my temples with both hands, electing to take a more reasonable tone.

"Sam, Dean," I said sweetly, looking from one to the other. "You once told me that Hunting is a lifestyle. That I wasn't good enough because I didn't embrace it. Well, this is me—embracing it. So kindly mind your own fucking business." With that, I spun on a heel and unlocked the door to the room. Then I went inside and slammed it in their faces.

My tough girl act lasted mere seconds after I was out of their sight, and I slumped against the door with a sigh. Mika watched me from the bed, and I levered myself upright long enough to stagger over and collapse beside her. Then I rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling.

"You hungry?" I asked a couple minutes later.

"Not yet," Mika said, subdued.

"Good," I said. "I'm going back to sleep. Keep watch." I bundled the blankets around me, still cold despite the jacket I wore. Then I closed my eyes and settled into the pathetic excuse of sleeping. It was basically me falling asleep for short intervals before waking myself up with a pounding heart and a dry mouth. Entirely unproductive in restoring my mental faculties and energy level.

It didn't take very many sessions of pseudo-sleep before my brain's logic center starting somewhat functioning again. What I'd said to Sam and Dean had been completely stupid—ridiculous, even. Freezing them out like that had been monumentally stupid. I was an idiot. While I might not like it, their help would be good. It wasn't just my life on the line. It was Mika's too. And putting my wounded pride ahead of that had been selfish.

About an hour later, I had the presence of mind to think about calling Sam. Maybe they would forgive me and come back. I was willing to apologize if necessary. Actually, if I made it through this, I would totally apologize. I had been out of line, saying what I had. They had come to help, and I had acted like a brat.

I rooted around the nightstand for my phone, but in the end, it turned out to be unnecessary.

There was a knock at the door.

I glanced around, finding Mika in front of the TV. She turned it off and stood. "Now I'm hungry," she announced.

Not one second later, Dean's voice followed another knock. "Riley? Open the door. We brought food. Bacon."

I threw off the blanket, feeling too hot now anyway, and practically ran to the door. Checking the peephole, I saw that it was indeed Dean standing there, and true to his word, he had bacon. I opened the door, rubbing sleep out of my eyes. "Come in," I said meekly, hoping he knew I was sorry for earlier.

I led the way into the room, peeling off my jacket and tossing it away with a yawn before sitting at the table. Sam and Dean trooped in behind me, carrying white plastic bags full of amazing smelling food. Mika sat down at my side, and we both watched with big eyes as glorious things appeared in white styrofoam containers.

Sam and Dean pulled up chairs, and started unloading the cartons. I sat, drinking it all in until I couldn't take it anymore. "I take back all the horrible things I said," I declared as Dean set a container of bacon and pancakes in front of me. "I was just...exhausted and—"

"It's okay," Sam said, ever the peacemaker. "We understand. You've had a tough week. Mika explained." Oh my god. That girl.

I swiveled my head over to glare at Mika. "What?" she protested innocently, a forkful of pancake halfway to her mouth already. "They were going to bring food." I shook my head, feeling like I should be angry, but not even caring in that moment. Instead, I just picked up a piece of bacon and munched on it, closing my eyes and savoring the sheer amazingness.

When it was done, I ate another piece, and then another. After that, I started to feel sick, so I left the rest of my breakfast plate for Mika to consume. She did so happily, and I wondered how in the world she wasn't fat when she ate like that. Of course, Finn ate staggering quantities too, and he never seemed to gain any weight either. Turds, the both of them.

A shiver rocked me, and I looked around for my jacket, realizing I was freezing yet again. It was on the bed, too far away to grab without getting up. I pursed my lips, facing forward again and spotting Sam's jacket slung over the back of his chair. He was in the hall, taking a call, so it was totally up for grabs.

I inched my hand over surreptitiously and pulled the big jacket off the chair before wrapping it around me. It was like a comfort blanket on steroids. Super big, super warm, super comforting. Another shiver rippled through me followed by a yawn, and then Sam's jacket started warming me up. I sat there, almost but not quite, in a bacon coma. I was warm-ish, full, and sleepy.

Mika finished up my plate, and I grinned, watching her devour the food like a madwoman. Then my gaze meandered lazily about the room before drifting over to Dean, only to find that he was watching me. I looked down quickly and picked at the tabletop as I fought off a yawn, all the while feeling his heavy stare. "I stole a car," I announced finally, just to break overwhelmingly tangible pressure of silence.

My eyelids drifted downward, and I lost the battle with the yawn. But I pried my eyes back open, not wanting to miss even a second of Dean's startled look. Then the corner of his mouth twitched up into the start of a tiny smile. "Atta girl," he said.

Sam walked back in and drew up short, taking in Dean's almost-smile and his tan jacket draped around me. I stared at him with heavy lids and my most stubborn look, daring him to try and take it away. It must have worked, because he let me be.

Settling sideways in the chair and tucking my legs up, I rested my cheek against the back and tucked my hands under my chin. Sam's sleeves covered my hands, and I breathed in his scent. Safe. It was an actual scent. If I could make a candle of it, there would be the scent of gunpowder and man soap and a tinge of sweaty guy smell. It smelled safe, and I loved it.

"I killed seven vampires," I reported sleepily, saying the first random thing that popped into my mind.

Mika dropped her fork. Dean's tiny smile went brittle, and Sam seemed to choke on a piece of pancake but turned it into a cough. "Oh?" Dean asked. His tone was all funny, which made me feel like I should stop talking, but more words came waltzing out of my mouth regardless.

"Yeah," I confirmed, my eyes slipping closed. I battled them back open. "But first, I broke into a morgue and stole blood from a corpse. His name was Jonathan. Nice guy, really. He was bald, though. Hard to trust a bald guy. After that, I burned up all the furniture in the vampires' house with an exploding can of air freshener. Tahitian Sunset, I think. Nice picture, terrible smell."

All three had gone very still, becoming a rapt audience, and I took that as encouragement to keep going. I gave a sleepy huff, closing my eyes as more of my crime spree came to mind. "Then I bought an illegal silencer from a friend of Bobby's. Used it to ventilate one vampire's skull. Ventilate. That's a funny word when you think about it. Ven-til-ate. Probably a latin-based word. Anyways, then we rolled this other one in a rug to make a taco after we cut off his head with razor wire. It was a hideous rug, so I don't feel that bad about burying it in the woods with the bodies. But that was after the first vampire I buried. Mika didn't really know about that one. Then after that, I broke into a dance studio and did all this mirror stuff. We played a Miley Cyrus song, and I killed two more vampires. That's why my arm is so bruised."

I paused, feeling cozy and warm.

"Riley?" Dean queried almost too quietly to hear.

I opened my eyes, realizing my head had lolled forward. I lifted it upright and blinked. What had I been saying? Oh, right. Telling them about my week. "And…and then we went to a warehouse—I know, right, why is it always warehouses? What is this Hollywood?" I snorted at the thought, then went back to my story. "Anyways, that was where I killed another one. He was pretty easy, which was funny. Funny strange, not funny haha. Although, I guess after this week, maybe it was kind of funny. Funny haha _and_ funny strange. Multiple funnies."

I rubbed my eyes, confounded to find sleeves over my hands. Right, I was wearing Sam's jacket. Then something occurred to me. "Oh! We had bacon, too! I ate a lot. I threw it up later, though, before I killed the last vampire. Mika didn't know about that, either. The throwing up part, not the last vampire part. Well, he wasn't the last. Number Six was actually the seventh vampire I killed which sounds crazy—" I was cut off by another yawn, and I covered my mouth with Sam's sleeve until it was done. My vision got all blurry around that point, so I squinted at the three of them. "—but it totally makes sense if you think about it," I said finally with a wave of the sleeve. I yawned yet again, wondering if I'd ever be able to stop. "Anyways, there are two more left to kill. So really, he wasn't the last. Mh-hmm. Not the last. Still got two more."

My eyelids were heavy, and I blinked at Sam and Dean owlishly. "So what did you do this week? Kill anything interesting?"

Sam got up, and I tilted my head far, far back until I could see his face under my drooping lids. He eased me up to my feet and started herding me over to the bed. I stumbled over the chair leg when it didn't get out of my way. "Son of a biscuit," I murmured, pulling out my machete to show the stupid chair who was boss. Sam took my machete away, and I scowled at him, thwarted. Then I pulled out the knife in my boot, but he took that too.

"Hands off, turd," I said, scowling and shambling away from him.

"Anything else?" Sam demanded, hands on his hips.

"Bite me," I scoffed, crawling slowly up onto the bed.

Something niggled at the back of my mind, something I had to tell him. It was important yet annoyingly elusive. I fell into a Riley-sized lump on the comforter, thoughts ticking through my brain agonizingly slow. Finally, it dawned on me.

"Finn's awake," I murmured, settling my cheek against the pillow. A half smile grew on Sam's face. Then I remembered the second thing. "Gotta kill the last two vampires tomorrow. Or I guess it's tonight, now," I added sleepily.

His smile faded. "Go to sleep, Riley," he said.

I tucked my hands under my chin, and closed my eyes. "'Kay, 'night, love you," I mumbled, and then I was lost to the world.

I slept for hours. Upon hours. Upon hours.

Mika woke me up with a cautious shake bordering on worried. Apparently, I hadn't wanted to wake up for the last minute of her prompting. I erupted out of the blankets, brandishing my gun, thinking we were about to die. Mika scrambled across my lap, pinning my gun arm to the bed and starting a painful burn in my other. My brain kicked in after that, and I let the gun go. Mika got off me, taking the gun with her. She passed it to Dean, and I scowled, shoving my hair out of my face.

Sam looked mystified, having confiscated my weapons before I'd gone to sleep. Yeah, even exhaustion-drunk me wasn't about to let him appropriate my gun. I scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling better than I had in a long while yet still a little off.

I eased my feet over the edge of the bed, feeling like my skin was on fire. Shoot. The alternating hot/cold transitions made sense now. Fever, yuck. I wondered if maybe I should have cleaned out the bite wound on my arm a little better. I had taken a shower and splashed it with soapy water in lieu of actual disinfectant. Then, unable to handle looking at the seeping blood, broken skin, and generally unsightly torn muscle, I'd wrapped the wound and called it good. That had been a day ago? Two days ago? I didn't know. But fever meant it was probably infected.

Dean came over, putting a hand on my forehead. I batted it away, but the damage was already done. He'd felt the heat and made the connection easily enough, catching my arm and yanking the bandage back from the wound.

It was nasty. My head spun as I looked at the puss and redness. Dean said some choice words. Then he said something to Sam. I sat on the edge of the bed, and Sam brought out a bottle of brown liquid. Dean unscrewed the lid and poured some on my arm. It burned like crazy, but I didn't even move. Pain was relative at this point. Antibiotics followed, complete with a stern look, and I downed them without argument.

Dean went out to the car reappearing with some general first-aid stuff. He cleaned the bite on my arm, and I just sat there, completely unconcerned. Gosh dang, I felt so good. Mika was safe. She was fed. Rested. I was safe, fed, rested. Rested-ish. Life was good again.

It took me a long moment to realize that Dean was actually talking to me. Apparently, I had been zoning out. I blinked and tuned back in just in time to hear him ask, "How did you get roped into this anyway?"

I glanced over my shoulder at Mika who was conveniently staring holes in the Harry Potter book I'd given her yesterday. No way was she actually reading, not with the book being upside down and all. Then I looked back at Dean. "Finn's sister," I said with a shrug, as if that explained everything. And I guess, in a way, it did. Dean understood what Finn meant to me, and he also understood what family meant. That alone was enough.

Dean went still, crouched thoughtfully in front of me. His fingers were cold against my skin, but I knew that was probably just the fever. "Seven vampires, huh?" he said, almost sounding impressed. I nodded.

"Seven," I said softly, staring at the half-healed blisters on my palms. Digging graves, that's how I'd gotten them. The worst part was that it didn't even faze me now. Didn't seem too "out there" or unrealistic. It was just something that I'd done.

Dean followed my eyes and then inspected my hands with gentle fingers. I remained silent, letting him, even though they were just blisters. Dean let go of my hands and stood. Then he sighed and leaned against the wall, still positioned in front of me.

"I was wrong," he said finally. "What I said before...I was wrong." Sam looked up sharply from where he was working on his laptop, which let me know that was probably not something he heard Dean say too often. I knew what Dean was talking about without needing clarification. He'd said that Finn and I were just kids. That I'd been acting like Hunting was just a hobby, of sorts.

I shrugged again, my mouth folding into a frown as I shook my head slightly. He hadn't been wrong. Wrong to say it, maybe, but not wrong. I _had_ treated Hunting as some sort of extra curricular. But not anymore. The past week had been a wake up call. Now I was in it for good.

"Seven," I said, louder than before. "Seven, soon to be nine."


	8. Happily Ever After

Disclaimer: The Winchesters and Missouri Moseley are not my characters.

A/N: I mention a Hunter in here. Bonus fandom points if you know who I'm talking about. PM me with the answer :) Also...this is the last chapter? Maybe? I don't know.

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><p>We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz.<p>

Hah. Just kidding. That was Dorothy's lame-ass thing.

We—meaning Riley and Winchester Bros Incorporated—were off to kill a psychotic vampire who had sacrificed almost his entire nest just to play a week-long, homicidal version of hide-and-seek.

That just didn't have the same ring to it, though.

Of the three of us, one was humming a classic rock song under his breath and navigating the streets using the fading sunlight, one was plagued by fever-induced chills, and one was a responsible, six-foot-four giant attempting to map our course using printed out directions that had previously been sat on, bled on, and coffee-ied on by one Riley Stewart.

"It's right up here on the left," Sam said with a frown. He turned the directions sideways, squinting. "Either that, or it's on the other side of town." Dean shut off the engine, making the decision for us. "You're directions suck, Riley," Sam concluded, tossing the tattered paper into the backseat where I sat hunched inside a blanket.

I elected not to reply, kind of liking it when Sassy Sam and his bitchface made an appearance. Usually he was all grim and responsible. Also, I couldn't really counter, since I had pretty much forced them to bring me along. It wasn't so much that I was feeling better, rather I just refused to tell the Winchesters where the final vampy showdown was going to take place unless they promised to take me with them.

I had also teared up a little—using a quick one-two tear streak pattern down my cheeks—which had gotten me my way quicker than any amount of threats or bribery would have. Of course, I _did_ feel a little guilty for using my feminine wiles against Sam and Dean, but there was no way I was going to let them finish this Hell Week without me. It was a matter of professional and personal pride.

And also the fact that I would probably never be able to sleep soundly again if I didn't take care of this myself. So there was always that.

In the front seat, Dean stopped drumming his thumbs against the steering wheel. He twisted in his seat, throwing his arm across the back of it. "So you just went out and met him?" he asked for the umpteenth time in reference to my meeting with Head Honcho. "What did he say?"

I wrinkled my nose and fought the urge to roll my eyes. "I got the distinct impression he was trying to charm me," I said carefully. I didn't mention being propositioned like a street-corner girl as I doubted it would go over well with this audience. "But I think my lack of blonde ditzyness and my overall bad attitude killed the mood."

I yawned, but it was a good yawn. I wasn't bone tired and in constant fear for my life, which is actually a pretty great feeling. Glancing out the window, I continued my narration of the meeting. "Then we reached the threat-making portion of the evening. You know, 'I'm going to kill you. Slowly. Painfully. Blah blah blah.'"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "And how did that go over?"

I shrugged. "Told him where to find his most recently deceased crony. Mika and I left him in an industrial fridge on Maple Street."

Sam twisted in his seat. "Speaking of Mika, I did some digging on Jemma McAllister. She's a good Hunter, better than most. But, Riley, she's crazy."

I stared at him for a long second, and a half-hysterical giggle burst from my throat. Oh, please. Tell me something I don't know, Sam Winchester.

Sam looked annoyed, which told me I might have said that last bit out loud. He must have felt the need to make the gravity of the situation known, because he started ticking off negative personality traits of his fingers. "She's driven, violent, obsessed…"

"Batshit insane?" Dean suggested, looking out the window. Sam pulled a face, but he didn't deny it.

"We met a Hunter like that once," Sam said.

Dean looked up sharply. "Nearly killed Sammy," he said in a low, dangerous tone. I wondered why anyone would want to kill Sam, but I didn't push. Dean's countenance suggested I keep my mouth shut. Besides, I didn't need to ask how that one had played out.

Sam pulled another face. "What we're saying is...be careful. People like that...you never know when they're going to snap."

I thought about it.

It was true.

Jemma McAllister was manipulative and secretive, and I really didn't know what would set her off. But at the same time, I wasn't so far from snapping myself. When crazy people snap, it's bad. But when normal, semi-rational people snap...something far worse tends to happen. If I was a wild, monster-killing weirdo on my better days, then I shuddered to even think about what would happen if I snapped.

I laughed again, this time less hysterical and a lot more menacing. "I'll be fine," I said, and I meant it. "Let's just get this over with.

The Winchester's climbed out. I followed. We all had our machetes held ready. I felt like part of a Hollywood action movie death squad, which was depressingly accurate. There was no laughing, no joking. It was just silent, grim camaraderie. Yay for us.

We walked up to the barn, and Sam pulled the giant door open slightly. I walked in, hesitating for a second as a small slice of fading sunlight silhouetted me on the floor. Then Dean slipped in behind me and Sam followed, pulling the door shut as he went.

My silhouette was swallowed in the gloom, and I took another step forward. It was like stepping into a void. The darkness was all-consuming, and I was feeling just malicious enough to blend right in. Sam and Dean flanked on either side of me, splitting off and edging along the far sides of the spacious barn. I walked down the center aisle, where all the stall doors were, making myself as flagrant a target as possible.

Straw rustled underfoot, and it wasn't until I reached the first set of stalls that Head Honcho started talking. "You cheated," he said, borderline sulky as his voice echoed and bounced through the shadows. "You were supposed to come alone, but you brought friends."

My heart started pounding, and a chill slithered down my spine. Mika thought I was going to die. I hadn't had the courage to ask her if it was part of her future-thing or just normal fear. I could very well die in this cold, empty barn. I could be talking to my killer right now.

That feeling alone was almost indescribable. I swallowed. Then I shrugged casually, knowing no matter what happened to me, the Winchesters would take care of Mika. "I never said I'd come alone. I just said I'd be here."

"It's the spirit of the matter," he said, speaking from somewhere out there. He was still treating this like it was a game, and it made me sick. People weren't playthings. Familiar anger started burning in my chest. I would be glad when he was dead. Because, one way or another, he _would_ be dead after tonight.

My lips twisted into a sneer, and I shook my head, not sure if he'd even see it. "You called me a lioness," I offered back coldly. "The thing about lions, though? They don't play to win." I paused a beat, letting that sink in. "Because lions don't play at all. They survive."

I continued to walk, checking the stalls left and right so that I wasn't randomly ambushed. There was a sharp breath from the infinite darkness, and I knew in my gut that Head Honcho was pissed. A minute later, his words confirmed it. "You stole what was mine!" It was little more than a hiss, and I could hear the fury in his tone. "You wanted to use her for yourself, so you stole her."

There was a small crackle of brittle straw from the stall to my right, and I swung in that direction. The stall door lurched towards me as the vampire appeared and started to exit the stall, reaching for me. It wasn't Head Honcho. It was only Number Eight. I kicked out, savagely hammering the wooden door with the bottom of my foot. The door bounced off and slammed back into Number Eight. His forward flight was hampered by flying wood to the kneecaps, and he stumbled.

Without pause, I lashed out with a fist, smacking him in the face and causing him to stumble to one knee. Then I kicked out again, this time slamming my boot into his face. Something crunched, maybe his nose or jaw, and I brought the machete forward in a furious arch. His head went rolling, and I stood panting, blood dripping from the machete.

Then I turned my attention back to Head Honcho, wherever he might be lurking. "I rescued Mika because you were slowly killing her, asshole." He didn't reply to that one, so I kept moving forward down the aisle.

Four steps later, I came to the end of the stalls, and the barn expanded up into wide open area in front of the other big door. I dipped my head out around the corner quickly before pulling it back. Seeing the area was clear, I eased my way around the bend and headed towards the west wall. I didn't know where Head Honcho was, but if I was at the end of the aisle, and Sam or Dean hadn't run into him, then I was willing to bet he was in the loft.

"I would have taken Kate, too, but you'd already killed her," I said, heading for the closest ladder.

He laughed at that one, a slow malicious sound that crawled slowly downwards through the air. Yep, definitely in the loft. "Ah, yes. Well, Mika was getting...difficult. We thought we might persuade her to continue working with us." I thought about how special Mika was and shuddered. I didn't know what kind of work he'd had for her, but it couldn't have been good. Doubly so if Mika would rather risk her and Kate's lives than keep doing it.

Head Honcho was back to being serious. "There's still time for you to join me, you know. Kill the two you brought with you, and I'll let you become what I am."

I hesitated on the ladder, trying to see where he might be in the loft without exposing myself. "You're a monster," I said slowly.

He laughed. "Oh please. You've killed eight of my family in the last week, buried several of their bodies like common trash, and paraded around your victory in front of me. I'm the monster? What does that make you?"

I thought about it, but not for very long. "A Hunter," I said. "That makes me a Hunter." And with that, I heaved myself up the last few rungs of the ladder and into the loft.

Head Honcho was sitting on a straw bale, which was a bit disconcerting. Just sitting there, watching me. Awesome. "I could kill you before they can even get to me," he said quietly, no longer broadcasting to the entire barn. "Even then, they might not be able to beat me. So...any last words?"

Half a dozen pithy statements flooded through my mind, but only one concept really stuck around. "It's Sam and Dean Winchester," I said simply.

His eyes widened slowly and so did my smile. I wiggled my eyebrows and swept my machete around in a figure eight to loosen my wrist. Head Honcho glanced left and then right, for the first time seeming uneasy. "Besides," I said conversationally, "even if you kill me, they have Mika, and you will _never_ get her back."

His face twisted into fury, and he disappeared into a blur. Heavy hands grated painfully on my shoulders, locking on with supernatural strength as teeth ripped at my neck. It was, of course, nearly the exact same spot all the other vampires had tried to bite me—the crook of my neck. The pain traveled to my brain instantly, but unlike the last time this had happened, I didn't freeze up. Instead, I dropped the machete, grabbed two handfuls of the bulk that was suddenly in front of me, and flung myself backward.

I wasn't super up-to-date on my physics knowledge, but I was pretty sure that things fall at the same rate regardless of their weight. Despite that, during the brief plummet to the ground, Head Honcho somehow ended up on the bottom. He slammed into the ground, and I slammed into him. I heard bones break, but thankfully, they were not mine this time.

Still, pain crashed over me like a fog bank made of cotton balls and concrete. Yowza, that had hurt. Who knew flinging oneself from a loft would cause bodily harm? Oh wait, I had known that. But I'd done it anyway.

Strong, plaid-clad arms looped under mine and pulled me out of the mess of limbs. I let them. It was Dean. I was dragged backwards, my heels making little furrows in the soft loamy ground, and a blurry Sam stepped up on the left, hefting his machete easily.

In one swift movement, he took off Head Honcho's...well, head. I stared mutely as the head rolled, carried by the momentum of the strike, and came to a stop in front of me. Talk about Hollywood-esque storytelling. I wanted to vomit.

"It's over. It's finally over," someone murmured. It took me a second to realize it was me. My brain was slightly foggy, which I guess is par for the course when slamming a forehead into someone else's sternum.

"You're an idiot," Dean remarked. Even foggy, there was no mistaking who said that one.

I chortled into my hand, finding his chiding hilarious. "Never said I wasn't," I reminded him cheerfully. He tipped me upright, his hand on the small of my back in case I fell over. I was a little loopy with fever and bumped head, but I was in no way an invalid. I brushed his hand away, deciding it best if I just pretended to be a statue for the next few minutes.

Sam dragged the body away, kicking loam over the blood trail. The head also got taken away, but I squeezed my eyes shut for that part. After that, I moved my hands to my hips, breathing slowly and wondering if I'd bruised something important. Like my spleen or one of my kidneys.

During my contemplation of the black market price for a new internal organ, I remembered that I'd dropped my machete. Tossed it away, really, to avoid impaling myself as we fell.

"Hey," I said, turning towards the loft ladder again. "Can you get my machete? It's all the way up there." I craned my head, catching a glimpse of the handle, and pointed upwards. Tipping my head all the way back turned out to be a monumentally bad idea, because as I did, I was simultaneously tipping backwards in an uncontrolled descent. Dean's hands caught me again and pushed me upright. "Thankee kindly," I said, tipping the brim of an imaginary hat at him once I was stable again.

He gave me a judgy look but started up the ladder nonetheless.

"Oh!" I murmured, pulling my phone from my pocket. I'd turned it on silent, so as not to get me killed by an inconveniently timed call or text. Flipping through the contacts, I pulled up the number for the bed and breakfast. Then I scuffed my toe against the ground, waiting for the call to be routed through to Mika. She picked up almost instantly.

"It's done," I said simply. "We're safe now."

She started crying. I might have joined her if I wasn't so emotionally stunted. Instead, I waited until she had calmed down enough to hear me. "Pack the room up and put everything in the car. Sam and Dean will drop me off. Then we're getting the hell out of Dodge."

True to my word, Sam and Dean did drop me off. Only it wasn't the instantaneous "unload and peel out" that I was envisioning. Mika was waiting in the car, and it was already running and warm when we pulled in. Telling Mika to stay put with a wave of my hand, I walked in with Sam and Dean, unlocking our room for them. After grabbing a few remaining things, the Winchesters gravitated towards the door, where I stood.

I was just about to thank them when Sam passed me a card. I took it, reading his precise handwriting. "Missouri Moseley," I read, scanning the phone number. I didn't recognize the area code. Then I looked up at Sam, confused by the understanding and kindness in his face.

"For Mika," Sam said quietly. "Missouri is a psychic working out of Kansas. She might be able to help Mika with...you know." I hesitated, chewing on my lip. Was she that obvious? I had been with her for almost a week before seeing it. Maybe Sam just had a spidey sense.

Thinking about Spider-man reminded me of my first impression of Mika's ability, and I tried to grin. "So it's not a superpower, then?" I asked, trying to lighten the situation.

Sam smiled, but it was tight and small. "Not a superpower. But with the right training, she can do a lot of good."

I leaned back against the doorjamb, feeling a little overwhelmed. I didn't want her to be trained. I wanted her to be a normal kid while she still had the chance. "She's just a kid," I said, more to myself than him. "She shouldn't be involved with this stuff."

Sam snorted. "So were you, when we first met."

I shook my head. "I met a vampire and then ran him over with my car. I don't think I was ever just a kid."

Sam shrugged, tipping his head slightly. "True," he conceded. "Still, I think it might be better...for all of us...if she's around someone like her."

I nodded, knowing that he was right. Sam was always right. Even when he was wrong, he still managed to be right. "I'll get her to Missouri," I said, and I meant it. Even if I had to go through Jemma to do it.

"Be careful," Sam warned, and I think he knew exactly what I was pondering. Then he slung his backpack and laptop bag over his shoulder and headed out of the room.

Dean took a step forward, having held back during our conversation. He hesitated in the doorway, just like Sam had a second earlier, rubbing his jaw with a hand. "Maybe we should, you know, stick around. Meet this Finn of yours."

"Nope," I said quickly, grabbing his arm and half shoving, half spinning him around. Then I put my hands on his back and bundled him out the door like a mini bulldozer. "Thanks for the help. It was nice to see you. So long. Be safe. Have a nice drive."

He laughed, planting his feet and stopping our forward momentum easily. "Alright, alright, I get the point."

I grinned, swiping a stray piece of hair out of my face.

Then Dean got all serious, and my grin faded slowly. "You're a Hunter, Riley. I wish you were off screwing around and doing normal teenage things, but you're not. So just...be careful, okay?" It was the exact same thing Sam had just said, but at the same time it was different.

I tried to smile but pretty much failed. The best I could manage was a wavering line where my mouth was supposed to be. "Didn't yah hear? I'm not a teenager anymore." His brow crinkled, and he frowned. I shrugged. "January eleventh," I confirmed. Which was today—more or less—since it was still technically not midnight yet.

His forehead wrinkled, and his frown deepened, as he looked down at me. Then his mouth twitched into a smirk. "No offense, but your birthday party sucked," he said.

A quick bark of laughter erupted out of my throat, and I rubbed the back of my neck with a hand, glancing at the ground. "Yeah, well, not all of it. You brought me bacon. Doesn't get much better than that, right?"

He inclined his head with a snort, not really agreeing or disagreeing, but then he reached out and pulled me into a hug. I was kind of surprised and remained stiff for a moment, but then I relaxed into it. "Thanks for coming," I said quietly into his warm, plaid shirt.

"Always," he promised. Then he pushed me back at arms length and dropping his hands. "See you around, kiddo."

A minute later, he was gone, walking down the hall. I followed him out, standing by my car door as he opened his with a familiar squeak. He climbed in, and the engine started. I waved at Sam as the Impala rolled out of the parking spot and started to pull away. He waved back, and I sighed—my breath billowing out in a cloud—and stared after it until I couldn't see the sleek shape anymore.

I climbed into the car, holding my hands in front of the heating vents for a second. "Well, where to, my Lady?" I asked with a grin.

Mika waved a hand dramatically and deepened her voice. "Onward, my brethren," she commanded imperiously. "The world is our oyster." I snorted, realizing she'd just quoted Shakespeare. I quoted movies, Finn quoted philosophers, and she quoted Shakespearean literature. Typical. So typical.

Then I sobered. "But seriously, where to? I can take you to Jemma, or…" I let the numerous possibilities hang in the air like iron-clad promises. I would take her wherever she wanted to go. Screw Jemma.

Mika's silliness faded as well, almost visibly leaking away. "I don't know," she said in a tiny voice, staring at her hands in her lap. "Can you...can you just drive for now?"

I pulled out of the parking lot and started driving.

It was at least ten minutes before Mika spoke again. "I was trying to find my father," she said, breaking the long silence. "I ran away. I saved up three hundred dollars and ran away. I was asking around, traveling and staying with Hunters I'd met before, and making stupid mistakes, I guess. That's when the vampires found me."

That was probably the most dangerous way to go about finding one's dad, but I wasn't judging. I said nothing, hoping she'd keep talking. After a pause, she did. "I know you think I'm stupid, but I found him, right before the vampires grabbed me. One of my mom's old Hunting buddies said that my father is somewhere in New York. That's where I was trying to go before they got me."

I stewed it over, thinking through the possibilities. I could take her to New York. I could help her find her dad, but what then? Would he be like her? Would he have her stay with him?

I chewed on my lip, glancing over at Mika. She was staring down at her hands again, like she was awaiting judgement. "You told Sam... about what you can do." It wasn't a question.

"He guessed," she said quietly. "You were sick and asleep, and we just started talking. I think he was trying to make me feel better, but then I said something I shouldn't have. I told him it wasn't his fault. Just like I know what happened to Finn wasn't your fault. It was hurting him, just like it hurts you, and I couldn't help myself."

I puckered my lips and blew out a breath. "You told him what happened to Jess wasn't his fault. She was going to be his fiancé. He never got the chance to ask her to marry him."

Mika stared out the window. "I know. I don't know how I knew that, but it was just something I felt."

I blew out another breath, feeling out of my depth. Give me a vampire, I'll kill it. Give me a fourteen-year-old psychic, I was totally lost. "Sam gave me the contact info for a lady. Her name is Missouri. She's like you. Maybe she can help you."

"L-like me?" Mika stuttered, sounding shocked.

I glanced at her, wrinkling my forehead. "Yeah, you know, a psychic. Like you."

"A psychic?" she looked flabbergasted. "No, I'm just a freak. My mom said—"

I didn't even listen to her next words. Rage just boiled over in my brain. "Jemma is a fucking liar, Mika. She told Finn his dad was dead. She never even told him he had a sister. Now she lets you think you're some kind of freak? You're psychic. There are other people out there that are just like you." Which was not something I would have ever thought I'd say in my life.

A single tear rolled down Mika's cheek, and I wondered if maybe I was being too abrasive. Riley is a gentle soul, known for her compassionate tact and grace, said no one ever. "She...she said if anyone ever found out what I was, they'd kill me. Or use me. I just thought…"

"I'm taking you to Missouri. The lady, not the state. She actually lives in Kansas, so I hope you like wheat fields."

A spark of hope lit up Mika's face, but it was quickly chased away by fear. "My mom—"

"I'll take care of Jemma," I said harshly. Maybe a little too harshly, but I was beyond caring. "You'll be okay, and I'll be okay. Everything will be fine. And if it isn't, I will _make it_ fine." God, I sounded like the freaking terminator. Only, I had better annunciation.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me? You don't even know me." Mika was sniffling, and I kind of hoped she wasn't about to start crying again. Then again, I was basically telling her to abandon her mother, albeit a madwoman, and start a new life. Maybe tears were justified.

I thought about what she'd asked. "Why wouldn't I do this?" I said finally. Because that's what it came down to. There were no good reasons that I could come up with that told me not to. "I can help, so I will. And maybe someday, when you see someone you can help, you will."

I turned on my blinker, heading to an off-ramp. Then I drove into the town, following the signs to the one place I knew would give Mika her best chance.

She didn't even look surprised when I pulled into the bus station. We got out, and I handed her the backpack of clothes and supplies we'd accumulated for her during the week. Then I pulled out my wallet and handed her a stack of twenties and a pay-per-minute cellphone I'd picked up earlier in the week. Last, I pulled out the card Sam had given me and held it out to Mika. "Call her. Tell her what you can do. She'll help."

Mika took the card from me, holding it tightly. She looked scared, but she also looked determined. "Don't call your mom," I told her. "Don't email her, don't contact her in any way." I tapped the card. "If you really want to help people, this is how you do it."

Mika nodded, and I pulled her into a hug, getting a sense of deja vu since Dean had just done this to me. "Be careful," I told her. Then I paused, making up my mind. "I'll find your dad. And after I find him, I'll find you."

Mika nodded into my shoulder, and I pulled back. "Good luck," I said, not really sure why. She nodded again and hitched the backpack strap up a little higher on her shoulder. Then she turned and marched to the ticket counter, buying a ticket with her head up and back straight.

I waited with the car idling for her to get on the bus. Mika hesitated, foot on the first step. Then she turned and gave me a small wave before climbing up the stairs.

The bus pulled out, and I put the car in drive.

The bus headed towards Kansas, and I got on the freeway. Headed for Michigan. Headed for Finn. Headed, unfortunately, for Jemma.

I didn't know what I was going to tell her yet. Didn't know what I was going to tell Finn. But I had a long drive ahead of me to figure it out.

Part of me didn't care, though. Finn was awake. Awake, after all this time. And, holy crap, I couldn't wait to see him.


End file.
